I Never
by GeneHarlow
Summary: After Jackson dumps her, Stiles is determined to help Lydia move on with a night of hard drinking and a revealing game of I Never. However, our favourite brooding Alpha is less than impressed with the teens behaviour and decides to step in, creating the beginnings of a complicated Derek/Lydia/Stiles love triangle.
1. Chapter 1

"I told you, Stiles. I'm fine!" Lydia whined, as Stiles led her deeper into the woods. She stomped a few paces behind him, her heels sinking into the soft leaves that littered the forest floor. Stiles said nothing, and continued to head towards some unknown destination.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see." Stiles replied, simply.

"You're being very cryptic." Lydia narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the back of Stiles' head, and stopped walking very suddenly.

"Are you leading me into the woods to murder me?"

He sighed, and turned to find her standing defiantly, with her arms crossed and her little foot tapping away.

"Yes, Lydia. I am. You got me. After this, you should solve crimes."

"After this, I'll be dead, remember?" She smirked at him.

Stiles just rolled his eyes and snorted to himself, before turning back to the path and strolling away from her. She pouted for a moment before trotting after him, wrapping her impractical cropped pink jacket around herself a little tighter.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, Lydia pouting and huffing the whole time, and Stiles deliberately ignoring her.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. She glanced sideways at him from under her lashes. "I'm sorry about you and Jackson."

"Oh..." Lydia hadn't expected that. "Yeah... well."

"He's an ass," he said simply.

"Yeah," she agreed, softly. "He kinda is."

She sniffled, holding back the sudden hot tears that burned behind her eyes. Lydia didn't realise that anyone knew she was still hurting over Jackson's sudden disappearance. After he came back as a wolf, she'd expected that they'd get back together and she'd finally be let in on all the secrets that everyone else already seemed to know. Instead, Jackson had announced to her that he was leaving and everyone had gone back to ignoring her. Somehow, the heartfelt speech about "protecting her" and how she "didn't fit in with this world" had hurt more than his callous dismissal of her in the school hallway. This time, she knew he meant it, and she also knew that it meant she wasn't about to be let in on the strange world she was so curious about. Jackson left the same night she had got him back, and she had snapped the smile right back on her face and got on with her life. Smiling through a week of school, she had swallowed all her questions about everything she had seen that night, ignoring the awkward looks that Allison kept shooting her way. She hadn't realised anyone had noticed she'd been drowning. Sniffing again, she pretended to casually scratch at her eye, while really wiping away a tear that had escaped. Stiles cleared his throat and finally glanced at her, shooting her a sad smile that she returned gratefully. She shook herself, her curls bouncing wildly around her face.

"So, where _are_ we going?" She asked, brightly, full of life again. He grinned at her.

"Well, what do you do when your friend gets dumped?"

Lydia flashed him an unimpressed look.

"I mean, what do you do when your friend... ends a long term relationship. Totally on her terms. And not on that jerk Jackson's terms." He amended, quickly.

She shrugged at him.

"Take them out into the woods and kill them?"

"Yes! But then I realised, what would the world do without Lydia Martin in it? Soo..." He poked around in the large sports bag he'd hauled out with them, eventually pulling out a bottle of Jack Daniels. "You get your friend drunk!" He announced with a flourish, frowning slightly at the unimpressed look that remained on Lydia's face.

She tapped her finger against her lip, as if deep in thought.

"Erm, two questions - Firstly, since when are we friends? And secondly, do I look like the kind of girl who drinks Jack Daniels?"

Stiles' face fell slightly, before he recovered, reaching into the bag again and pulling out a bottle of Absolut.

"The Jack's for me. I always knew you were more of a premium vodka girl." She gave him a sly smile and reluctantly reached out to take the bottle of vodka. As she went to pull it from him, he suddenly tightened his grip on the bottle and yanked it back. She stumbled towards him, so they were mere inches away from each other. She could feel his breath against her face when he spoke.

"And Lydia? Don't pretend you don't like me. I know you want me really."

Snorting, she rolled her eyes and snatched the bottle out of his hand.

"I only like you for your booze connections."

He gasped and clutched his hand to his chest.

"You wound me!"

She chuckled, raising the bottle to her lips to take a deep swig. Her little nose crinkled in disgust at the taste, as Stiles laughed, opening his own bottle and reaching forward to clink his against hers.

"Cheers."

* * *

"Lydia, put your coat back on," Stiles scolded, as she struggled to shrug out of her jacket. Lydia was sitting with her back against a tree, her legs sprawled out in front of her, flailing around trying to get out of her jacket.

"Nooo. I'm... I'm too hot," she slurred, tipping sideways. Stiles crawled over to her on his hands and knees and grabbed her hand, pulling her back upright.

"Oh you are sooooooo drunk!" he mumbled.

"No... _you're_ drunk!" They both giggled, drunkenly.

"This is way more fun that doing this with Scott. Scott's... Scott's no fun." He sighed sadly.

"And I'm tons of fun." She laughed to herself.

"Exactly!" He leaned forward and tapped the tip of her nose, using all of his concentration to manage to not just hit her in the face.

"Ok, your turn, Lyd."

She tipped her head back against the tree and huffed out a sigh, while she thought.

"Um.. I never... I never kissed Scott."

"Liar!" He yelled.

She raised her eyebrows at him and took a swig, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand in a most un-ladylike manner. Stiles looked around shiftily before taking a quick sip.

"I _knew_ it!" Screamed Lydia. "Spill!"

"Nothing to spill. We were like, 12 or something. We were wondering what it was like and... it just happened." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, while Lydia continued to smirk at him.

"Excellent. This is... This is excellent."

Lydia hiccuped and her head lolled lazily to the side. Stiles was still kneeling directly in front of her and reached out to brush the hair out of her eyes. Her eyes half opened and she blinked up at him, suddenly aware of his proximity to her. She fell to the side and rolled away from him, reaching for the bottle of vodka as she went.

"Your go," she slurred.

He lay back next to her, their shoulders rustling against the dry leaves.

"I never... fantasized about one of the wolves."

Lydia stiffened next to him.

"Not Jackson, I mean," he added quickly. "Any of the others?"

Lydia struggled to sit up and took a long swig of her drink, before turning back to shoot Stiles a flirty look. He didn't move and she gave him an incredulous look, turning her whole body around to kneel close to him. She leaned over him, holding the bottle out to him, until he realised her intention. Sighing overdramatically, he gave a tiny nod of his head and closed his eyes as she poured a little of the vodka into his mouth. She giggled as he coughed and spluttered.

"Erica?" She said, knowingly.

Stiles rubbed his hand through his buzzcut.

"Erm. Yeah."

If Lydia noticed his lie, she didn't say anything, instead choosing to try to get to her feet. She held on to the tree and tried to stay upright, taking deep breaths.

"I... I don't feel... I'm gonna get some air," she mumbled to herself.

Stiles snorted at her.

"So... what's your wolfy poison?"

She pressed her back against the tree, letting her head hang forwards.

"Vodka."

"No, no, no. Lydia. Which wolf do you like?"

"Oh.. erm. Well, Isaac's pretty... dreamy," she giggled.

"Agreed."

"But," She looked around shiftily, pressing a finger against her lips. "No judging?"

He stumbled to his feet and swayed dangerously, placing a hand across his heart.

"This is a safe place." He said, with mock sincerity.

"Derek is like, HOT! Like, he's all... brooding... and commanding."

"Commanding, eh?" Now he was standing up, Stiles suddenly realised how drunk he was and he heard how much he was slurring his words. Before he could realise what he was doing, he swayed forward towards Lydia, bumping their lips together. He had a barely thought-through idea of being "commanding", but his confidence waned as he felt her stiffen and go completely still. They stayed frozen for a moment, before he felt Lydia start to kiss him back, their lips moving together sloppily. As the kiss deepened, her arms came up to wrap around the back of his neck, partly through passion and partly to steady herself. He tried to take a step forward to close the last gap between them, but ended up stumbling forward and shoving her back against the tree, falling against her roughly. She let out a squeak and he tried to pull back to apologise, but her hands came up to hold his head still, still kissing him deeply. Perhaps he _could_ be commanding, even if it was only by accident. She tasted like vodka as his tongue swept carelessly through her mouth. He had been dreaming of kissing Lydia for years, but hadn't pictured their first kiss taking place up against a tree after an evening of "I Never" and hard liquor. She let out a soft drunken moan into his mouth and rubbed herself up against him and he suddenly came to his senses.

"Not like this," he murmured, pulling back an inch away from her mouth. She bobbed forward to try and kiss him again, frowning when he pulled away from her.

"Lydia. Stop." She stilled, her hands pausing on the back of his head. Her face crumpled and her bottom lip wobbled.

"No no no, Lydia. Don't..." He cupped her face in his hands, panic setting in as she burst into tears.

"You don't want me," she sobbed. His thumbs tried to wipe her tears away, as his fingers brushed her hair back.

"Please, Lydia. Stop." He was begging now, his voice coming out frantic, as his fear of crying girls took over. She pushed against him, her tiny fists flailing ineffectually against his chest as he pulled her to him in a hug. Giving in, her burbled sobs became muffled against his green lantern shirt as she allowed him to wrap his arms around her. She was crying in earnest now, fuelled by heartache and vodka, her breaths coming out in shaking wails.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry," he breathed softly into her hair.

Suddenly she pressed her hands against his chest and shoved against him, pushing him away. He staggered back, shocked.

"No you're not!" She screamed tearfully. "You're not sorry! You don't care. No-one cares!" God, he should have never let her get this drunk. He thought it would be good for her - A chance to stop pretending to be ok and just let go. He didn't realise how much she had been bottling up. He'd created a monster. He could barely tell what she was saying now, as she carried on screaming slurred nonsense at him.

"-And all you all do is lie.. You lie all the time!" She reached down suddenly, flicking both her heels off and turning to run into the darkness.

"Lydia! Lydia, wait!" Stiles shouted after, stooping to grab her jacket and his bag before taking off after her. He ran after her, cursing how much he'd drank after he stumbled and tripped over almost every tree root. Soon, he was alone, the silence pressing him on him from all sides. He stopped, panting hard, trying to listen for her footsteps in the darkness.

"Lydia?! Lydia?!" He called out frantically, starting to really panic, whirling around and squinting into the dark. He ran on, and stopped again, trying to listen for movement. Suddenly, something huge moved through the bushes to his left. Whatever it was did not sound like a 5'3" drunk girl, and it was moving towards him.

"Lydia...?" His voice came out small and pitiful, as the rustling continued moving steadily towards him.

He flinched as a figure broke out of the undergrowth, feeling a slight moment of relief when he could just about make out that it was person-shaped, not wild animal-shaped. His eyes squinted in the dark to try and make out who it was, as the figure took another step towards him.

"Stiles." The unmistakable voice of Derek Hale boomed out into the night, as Stiles' eyes finally adjusted to the gloom. He just had chance to make out Derek's scowling face, before he swung round, revealing the unconscious Lydia slung over his shoulder, her mess of curls hanging down his back.

"Lose something?"

* * *

**Second ever fanfic and I'm going for something a bit different. I know my last one was just Derek/Lydia-centric, but I 3 Stiles, so I decided to add him into the mix. Unlike the last one, I have no idea where this one is going. I have like, a vague idea for the next chapter and then pretty much nothing. All I know is that I love the idea of the three of them in a love triangle, and I love Stiles being sweet and Lydia being messed up and Derek being Derek.**

**Soooo ideas and suggestions are very welcome! I'm not promising to use ****_everything_****, but I love hearing what you guys think and I'd love some ideas for where you'd like this story to go. Help me finish this one, guys!**

**Reviews are love! 3**

**P.S - Why do Stiles, Derek and Lydia not end up in a love triangle more often? It's a love triangle where EVERYONE wants EVERYONE! That's the best kind! **

**xxx**


	2. Hungover

**Thanks for reviewing guys! Keep any ideas you have coming! I've got a rough idea for the next chapter, but after that, nothing. Anyhoo, enjoy the aftermath of Lydia and Stiles' crazy night of drinking! As someone who recently got dumped, I've had my fair share of nights like this so writing a believeable hangover is something I feel fairly comfortable with ;)**

* * *

Stiles awoke to the sound of curtains angrily being torn open. He squeezed his eyes shut against the bright sunlight of the early morning that was now shining into the room. His head was pounding and he knew that the world would be all too bright once he could force his eyelids open. He groaned sleepily and nuzzled his face deeper into his pillow, confused by the smell of coconut that seemed to be surrounding him.

"Wake up." A low voice commanded him.

"No, dad. Five more minutes." He squeezed his arms around his pillow and pulled it closer towards him, intent on going back to sleep, already feeling the edges of his consciousness blurring away again. A soft growl filled his room and Stiles frowned at the sound. Since when did his dad growl? And since when was his pillow so soft. And warm. And breathing?

Slowly blinking his eyes a few times, Stiles groggily took in his surroundings. The pillow he had been holding onto turned out to be the softly snoring form of Lydia, her back against him, their hands entwined against her chest. They were still fully dressed under the sheets, but both her dress and his shirt had ridden up in the night and he could feel the soft skin of her back against his belly. He flexed his fingers gently, trying to untangle them, before he froze, realising the bulge in his jeans was pressing against her barely-covered ass. His mind searched frantically for what had happened last night. He remembered drinking... ALOT and then Lydia having breakdown and- Oh god! He'd kissed her. He closed his eyes, groaning inwardly in embarrassment at the memory of his fumbled, drunken attempts at seduction. She would never let him live this down. Everything after that was a blur. He'd been in a car. Had he been in a car? Who's car?

He managed to stay completely still the whole time he was contemplating his evening, but the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him made him jump slightly. He slowly rolled his head back to see Derek standing over them with a deadly frown on his face. His mouth hung open as he stared into the glaring eyes of the man who he now remembered seeing in the forest. Derek's eyes pointedly flitted down to where Stiles' hand was still glued to Lydia's chest and Stiles followed his gaze shifting awkwardly. Fortunately, Lydia chose an excellent moment to snore loudly and roll over onto her front, allowing Stiles to whip his hand out from under her and shuffle out from under the sheet. The moment his feet found the floor, he'd planned to rise to his full height and stare Derek down - after all, he was in HIS room - but his stomach had other ideas and he had to lurch as quietly as he could to the bathroom. He silently cursed Jack Daniels as he clung to the edge of the toilet seat and emptied the contents of his stomach into the bowl. He wasn't sure how long he was throwing up, but it felt like hours. When he was done, he rested his head on the toilet seat, his head pounding and his world spinning. He could not remember ever being this hungover in his life. Suddenly, he felt something cold and wet against the back of his neck and he jumped at the foreign feeling.

"Lyd.. Don't-" He started, not wanting her to see him like this. His words were cut short as he glanced backwards to see Derek crouching next to him, holding a wet flannel against the back of his neck with a look of distaste on his face. He hadn't even heard him come in, let alone run a tap to wet a wash cloth.

"Am I dreaming?" He choked out, his words coming out harsh and ragged.

Derek said nothing, only pressed the flannel harder against his neck and straightening up, continuing to stare down at him with ill-disguised contempt. He wasn't dreaming, Stiles decided. He'd dreamt of Derek before and it had been nothing like this- No. Wait. Better not think about that. His morning wood had disappeared with his little vomiting fit, but there was nothing to say it wouldn't come back.

He glanced guiltily at Derek, as if he could somehow read his mind. Derek continued to say nothing, but quirked his eyebrow at Stiles, clearly waiting for him to say something.

"Um... Thanks." Stiles said, uncertainly, reaching to tap the wash cloth.

Derek just looked away from him, which Stiles supposed was his way of saying "you're welcome." The silence stretched on, so Stiles flushed the toilet and unsteadily got to his feet. At least his knees seemed to be holding up, for now. The room was still spinning, but less so than it had been before, so Stiles decided he must be on the mend. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do as he glanced awkwardly around the small bathroom, which seemed even smaller when so much of it was taken up by Derek Hale.

"You should brush your teeth." Without another word, Derek turned and walked back into the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. Stiles stood still for a moment, stunned by Derek's strange behaviour, before turning and obediently brushing his teeth.

Minty fresh and feeling much better, Stiles strolled back into the bedroom, half expecting Derek to be gone. He couldn't contain his gasp of surprise when he caught Derek pulling the sheet up higher around the still-unconscious Lydia. Derek jumped back as if burned and, for a brief moment, looked genuinely embarrassed.

"She moved in her sleep," he explained, shiftily. "I... thought I should cover her up."

Stiles stared at him incredulously, and Derek looked anywhere but at him. Stiles was rarely speechless, but the sight of Derek tenderly covering up Lydia was enough to render him silent, and he opened and closed his mouth several times before blurting out:

"Well, you are an enigma."

Derek furrowed his brow at him, clearly confused, before quietly clearing his throat and turning towards the window. He effortlessly swung one leg out, ready to jump out into the bright light of the early summer's morning.

"Wait!" Stiles whispered, before he could jump. Derek paused, but did not look back.

"What happened last night?"

"You got drunk." Derek replied simply, still not turning back.

"Well, yeah, I know that," He glanced at Lydia who murmured something in her sleep and then went still again. He lowered his voice slightly. "But... I don't remember what- Did you drive us home?"

Derek sighed deeply, as if bored by the whole thing, and climbed back in through the window.

"Yes." Stiles waited for more, before realising that's all he was getting.

"And?"

"And what?"

Stiles sighed. This was like getting blood from a stone.

"And... what else? What happened? I remember... I remember losing Lydia and I ran and fell alot and then it gets kinda blurry up until losing my guts this morning."

"I'm surprised you had anything left to throw up. You were sick quite alot in my car." Derek said, a small smile playing on his lips as Stiles threw his head into his hands and groaned in embarrassment.

"Oh god! I'm soooo sorry! I'll pay to have it cleaned. The good place. In town! I'll even throw in a turtle wax."

Derek smirked back at him, clearly enjoying his embarrassment.

"Anything else?" Stiles ventured, from between his hands.

"Where would you like me to begin?" He said simply.

Stiles stared at him in horror, his mind reeling with the possibilities of what he might have said or done. He was going to need coffee to face this. Nodding towards Lydia, he flicked his head towards the door and Derek nodded once, before following him out of the room and down into the kitchen.

"Coffee?" Stiles said, shaking a mug at him. Derek nodded, and Stiles busied himself making the coffee, avoiding eye contact.

"So... what else happened?"

Derek let out a long breath, as if deciding where to begin.

"Well, you called me "dude" alot," he paused, working hard to look unimpressed. "And kept telling me I was a "good guy"."

Stiles carried on banging around with the coffee maker, trying to avoid Derek's penetrating stare. He was slightly embarrassed, but this didn't sound too bad really. Derek wasn't finished yet.

"And the girl was crying."

"Lydia." Stiles interrupted. He knew Lydia wouldn't be too impressed at being referred to as "the girl".

"Yeah. Well, she was crying." He knew her name. He just didn't like to say it. The last time he had said her name she had been dragging him with a supernatural strength to resurrect his crazy uncle. Though he'd never admit it, he was still slightly uncomfortable around her.

"And she was begging me not to take her home. Kept saying something about her mother calling the shrink again."

This was news to Stiles. He wondered how many times she had seen the shrink and why she had chosen to hide it from him.

"I sent a text from her phone. Her mother thinks she's with Allison. And I checked with the station. Your dad wont be home today."

Stiles was speechless for the second time that day. He was already surprised that Derek had even taken them home, but to find out that Derek had had the the sense to plan their alibis was shocking. He stared at him, his eyes searching Derek's. He really was turning out to be an enigma. The Derek he _thought_ he knew would have left them out in the woods without a thought.

"Erm.. thanks, dude. Appreciate it." Stiles rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

Derek just looked away again. Stiles decided it really must be the way he said "you're welcome."

"So... Any other embarrassing incidents I should know about?"

"Well, you told the girl- Lydia. You told Lydia you loved her." Stiles froze, coffee pot in hand. "And then you made out in the back of my car for a bit." He added casually.

The mug clattered noisily into the sink. Of course Derek had waited to reveal that little nugget of information. Before he could process the information he had just received, a tiny voice piped up from the doorway.

"We did WHAT?"

* * *

**Sorry if this chapter's a bit dull. I'm just trying to figure out where this is going. It'll get dirty eventually - I promise. ;) **

**I'm kinda thinking of doing the next chapter from Derek's perspective - Perhaps a flashback to HIS experience of the night before? Filling in all the gaps in Stiles and Lydia's memories of the evening? I was thinking that might be kinda fun while I'm figuring out where to take this.** **What we thinking?**

**As always, feedback is just delightful. I heart all of your reviews! xx**


	3. Flashback

**Ta-da! A chapter from Derek's POV. The events of the night before... Enjoy!**

* * *

Derek was out running when he heard it - The soft tinkle of feminine laughter from far away. He was fully shifted, and was moving through the woods with incredible speed, he senses sharpened to his surroundings. He cocked his head and turned, running towards the sound before he could think about why he was drawn to it. He usually avoided people when he was running, but there was something familiar about the sound that drew him in. As he grew closer, he heard another voice. A man this time. Well, perhaps a boy. Slowing to a halt, he realised he recognised the other voice. It was the idiot friend of Scott's, the one with all the banter. The boy who perpetually smelled like ritalin and lust. Derek could always feel the heat and the hyperactivity coming off him when he was around him, and it clouded his oversharpened senses, throwing him off his game. Enemies always got the best of him when he was around. The last thing he wanted was to get drawn into some ridiculous conversation at this late hour, especially when he had come out running to clear his head in the first place.

Peter had been jumping around the house like a child at Christmas, rambling on about "the kanima boy" leaving town and how he would "finally have a chance to play with the girl." He had assumed he was talking about the girl he had attacked a few months ago. Derek barely knew her, but had still cringed when Peter casually discussed her like she was some plaything for him to toy with for his own amusement. The Hale pack still had a duty to protect the humans of Beacon Hills, as his ancestors had decreed long ago, and as long as Lydia was human, he would fight to protect her. So that was how he ended up running in the middle of the night, leaving Peter to lick his wounds (literally), and trying to calm down after yet another fight with his uncle about the "little redhead."

He froze when he realised that the tinkling laughter coming from the clearing up ahead was from that very same little redhead. The usual Stiles smell of ritalin and lust (heavy on the lust this evening, he noted) was mingling with the flowery, feminine scent of the girl, and... something else? Derek inhaled deeply and had to surpress a cough as his keen werewolf nose filled with the strong stench of alcohol, neat alcohol. Surely they weren't drinking? he thought to himself. They're just kids. He mentally shook himself, suddenly feeling very old. He had to remind himself they were 17, clearly old enough to be sneaking a drink in the woods every now and again. He'd done the same at their age. He couldn't help but frown though when he picked up on vodka and whiskey through the haze of hormones and perfume. How things changed in a few short years. When him and Kate had snuck out to the woods, as fresh-faced, rebellious teens, it had been beers and wine coolers and maybe half a bottle of peach schappes, if they were lucky. But now, as he peeked his head out from behind a tree, he could see Lydia slumped against a tree, her jacket disgarded a few feet away, swigging from a bottle of vodka like it was water. Perhaps kids were more hardcore than he remembered?

He realised they weren't when he caught a snippet of the conversation through the trees. They were slurring their words, giggling loudly about whether or not Lydia was any fun, or something. They were clearly wasted. Derek was about to step forward, when he hesitated. Should he make himself known? They were just kids really, and they were alone and vulnerable. Then again, they were old enough to get themselves into this state - They could handle themselves. He had made his mind up to leave and began to turn away when some slurred statement halted him in his tracks. Lydia was teasing Stiles about kissing Scott when they were younger. Stiles? Kissing Scott? Derek quirked an eyebrow into the darkness. He wasn't sure why he found that piece of information so fascinating, but it was. He shook himself, flustered by his reaction to the information. They were still giggling away, talking about the wolves. His wolves. His attention was piqued again and he turned his attention back to their conversation, daring to peek another look. Lydia was leaning over Stiles, pouring drink into his mouth, practically slumped on top of him. This was wrong. He was eavesdropping on horny drunk teenagers. He daren't stop to think about the witty insults Peter would be throwing his way if he could see him now.

Lydia was asking Stiles if he'd been fantasizing about Erica. Derek felt a strange swell of protective instincts kick in briefly, before the smell of deception swept over him. He didn't know why, but Stiles was lying. He could smell it from here. Whoever Stiles had been fantasizing about, it hadn't been Erica. Lydia hadn't seemed to notice and Derek felt himself compelled to stay to find out which of his little pack had piqued the interest of the two humans. He grinned when he heard Isaac's name, not needing werewolf senses to know the boy had a little crush on Lydia. If he was the type to gossip, he'd love to tell him that Lydia thought he was "dreamy", but that would involve explaining what he was doing out in the woods, eavesdropping on two drunk teens in the middle of the night. That was a conversation he didn't want to get into.

The sound of his own name broke through his reverie.

"Derek is like, HOT! Like, he's all... brooding... and commanding."

He blinked, mutely. He hadn't been expecting that. Derek was rarely surprised but the little red head had managed to surprise him. Maybe he was starting to get what Peter saw in her. It was unusual for humans emotions to surprise him - He usually smelt them before they knew what they were feeling.

The sound of a sudden squeak brought him back to his senses and he poked his head out from round a tree just in time to see Stiles pushing Lydia against the tree, their arms around each other, their lips mashing together. The squeak had come from Lydia as she grabbed desperately at Stiles' collar. He frowned, disappointed at Stiles for taking advantage of a girl in Lydia's state. But he wasn't there to judge. Clearly Stiles was heavily inebriated himself and people didn't make good decisions when they'd been drinking. A soft, breathy moan from Lydia suddenly made him feel like a pervert. Peter would love this, but he was not Peter and he suddenly felt like he was being some kind of sick voyeur and turned as silently as he could, stalking off into the jungle.

He set off in a light jog, not wanting to make too much noise, but wanting to distance himself from the breathy moans and whispers coming from the clearing. Soon, he could only hear the muffled sounds of talking in the distance and the smell of testosterone, ethanol and lust had dissipated enough that he felt like himself again. He stopped, taking in a deep breath of the cool, crisp air and trying not to think about what he had just seen, the way Stiles' hand had fisted in her hair, the way Lydia's hands had clutched at his neck, the way their bodies were pressed together so tightly.

He was so distracted, he barely noticed the sounds of twigs breaking and leaves rustling from a little ways to his left. He crouched down, immediately alert, until he heard the soft sound of a hiccuping sob. "Lydia?!" Stiles' voice rang out in the distance, and the pace of her footsteps intensified. She was closer now, marching through the undergrowth just a few metres away when there was a sudden crash, a short squeal and then silence. Immediately closing the distance to where he'd heard her, he found her sprawled facedown on the ground, a tree root jutting out of the ground just behind her. Fearing the worse, he crouched down next to her, reaching a hand out to tentatively touch her shoulder. Lydia let out muffled snore into the leaves underneath her, before wriggling a little and murmuring "Jackson. Not now."

Sighing a breath of relief that she didn't seem to be injured, he scooped her up and swung her over his shoulder with ease. She let out a mumbled sound of protest but didn't struggle as he carried her to where he could still hear Stiles' slurred panicking voice.

"Lose something?"

Stiles whirled round, hands up like he was ready to attack, before recognising him and breathing out a sigh of relief.

"Derek? Lydia?" Derek swung around to let Stiles see that she was alive, but barely conscious. "Is she ok?"

Derek didn't answer, just suddenly swung Lydia back over his shoulder and positioned her to stand on her feet. The moment he let go, she began to crumple to the ground and despite Stiles moving to catch her, Derek's werewolf reactions gave him the edge and he caught her, pulling her up before she could fall. She giggled drunkenly, and reached up to tap him on the nose.

"My hero," she slurred, before her knees went out from under her again. Derek sighed heavily, annoyed by the situation now. He had planned to simply deposit her back with Stiles and leave them to it, but it was clear from the way Stiles was leaning heavily against the nearest tree that there was no way he was going to be capable of getting himself home, let alone Lydia. Lydia sagged heavily in his arms, still giggling to herself, and Derek sighed again, hooking his arm under her knees and picked her up, though in a slightly more dignified fashion this time. She automatically brought her arms up to wrap them around his neck and he tried to look as annoyed as he thought he should be, ignoring the feel of her small hands grasping at his leather jacket. Stiles was staring at him, his mouth hanging open, eyes wide. Derek didn't like the way he was looking at him, feeling like those golden eyes were looking straight into his mind, and he turned quickly, stalking off into the darkness. Stiles stood and watched him go for a second, before shaking himself and trotting after him to catch up.

"Where are we going?" He said, feeling like a child that had been caught doing something naughty.

"Home." Derek growled, looking straight ahead. He definitely wasn't thinking about the way Lydia's hand was absent-mindedly tracing small circles in the hair at the back of his neck or the way the smooth skin of her bare thigh felt under his hand. No. He definitely wasn't thinking about that.

"Your home? I've never been inside. Is it nice? It looks kinda crappy from the outside but I bet-" Stiles rambled, before Derek cut him off.

"No! Your homes."

Lydia let out a frightened little noise and the soft sobs started up again. Derek's steps faltered for a second and he looked down at her trembling form with a look of sheer panic. Stiles too just looked on in distress at the shaking girl in Derek's arms.

"No... Stop that." Derek commanded, but she just cried harder, burying her face into his chest. Derek looked over her head to Stiles for some sort of guidance, but the teen just shrugged and continued looking panicked. She raised her tear-stained face to meet Derek's gaze.

"Please... Please... You can't take me home. I can't go home." She wailed.

"I..." Derek faltered, not knowing what to say.

"I can't go home like this. They'll send me to the shrink again! Please, Derek. I'll do anything. Just please don't take me home." He didn't know if it was the broken way she said his name, or the fact that she was literally begging him, but he found himself reluctantly agreeing, and managed to locate her phone in her pocket and juggle her around a bit to send a quick text.

_To: Mom Won't be coming home tonight. Staying at Allison's. Night x_

_Also, going shopping tomorrow so wont be home till evening. Bye x_

He added the last bit, just as Stiles mumbled something about feeling sick. He realised neither of them were going to be fit to see anyone for most of the day tomorrow, and sent the texts, slipping the phone back into Lydia's jacket pocket. Lydia giggled and leaned in closer as his fingers ghosted down her side.

He felt a wave of jealousy coming off Stiles and glanced at him to see him staring intently at his hand on Lydia's side. He deliberately left it where it was, much too high and close to her chest to be appropriate. It was petty and he knew it, but he was being used as a glorified babysitter because these two were too stupid to know their limits, and if pissing off Stiles was the only highlight of his night, then so be it.

Stiles followed the rest of the way to his car in tense silence and chose to also get into the back of the car where Derek had just deposited Lydia. Lydia seemed to have perked up a bit now, and was at least conscious, which was an improvement on earlier. Stiles, on the other hand, seemed to be crashing hard and could barely muster a chuckle when Lydia made a smartass comment about Derek being like their chauffeur. He rolled his eyes, and started up the engine, deliberately pulling away too fast, so that the slumped-over Stiles went crashing into Lydia's shoulder. Glancing in the mirror, he frowned when he noticed his face stayed pressed against her shoulder and she didn't seem to mind.

"I'm so sorry, Lydia." The whisper was so quiet, Derek knew that normal human hearing wouldn't have picked it up from the front of the car over the loud roar of the engine. He chanced another look in the mirror to see Lydia press her face against the side of Stiles' head and whisper back into his ear.

"I know."

"I never want to make you cry Lydia. I love you." Derek tried to pretend he couldn't hear the whispered conversation from his back seat, and tried to pretend he wasn't shocked by the casual declaration of love. Perhaps he said it to her all the time. He looked back briefly to see the shocked look on Lydia's face and realised that he clearly had never said it before. He turned his attention back to the road, feeling once again like he was witnessing something he shouldn't, but this time he couldn't even get away.

A soft smacking sound brought his attention back to his rear-view mirror and he chanced a glance to see Lydia turning Stiles face to hers and kissing him. The soft, wet sounds continued and he heard them shifting in their seats. Derek forced himself to stare at the road intently, trying not to picture what was going on behind him. He heard a soft rustle of lace against bare flesh, and tried not to picture Stiles running his hand along her thigh. He turned a corner a little too sharply and heard a thump as they were thrown to the other side of the backseat. Daring to glance in the rearview again, he realised they were no longer in his line of vision, and willed himself not to turn his head as he sensed movement in his peripheral vision. He should stop them. They were drunk and... this was wrong on so many levels. If he was pulled over now, he truly did not how he would explain the two drunk, dry humping teens in the back of his car. They probably weren't dry humping. His mind was just reeling with the possibilities of what was going on back there. He definitely should not find the quiet little gasps and rustling sounds quite as hot as he was finding them. He pushed the thought from his mind. God, he really was a pervert. Clearly whatever was wrong with Peter was also wrong with him. It was taking every ounce of concentration he had to focus on the road, and from stopping his brain from noticed every little turning and lay-by where he could stop and car and... And what? Join in? Watch? God, what was wrong with him? They were drunk, annoying kids! He was having to take time out from his busy evening of running and brooding to drive them home. He should be annoyed that they were ignoring him and taking advantage of his hospitable nature. He tried his best to fill himself with outrage at their behaviour, and was building up to playing the dad-role and shouting at them to stop it, when he heard a sound that no car owner ever wants to hear - A sudden, sickening splashing sound, followed by wet coughing and a ear-splitting scream.

"Ewwwwww! Derek! Derek! Stop the car!" Derek whirled round to see Stiles bent over, throwing up half a bottle of jack daniels into the footwell of his car, while Lydia curled up on the other side of the back seat, lifting her bare feet up onto the seat and screaming continuously.

The car screeched to a halt and Lydia threw the door open, stumbling bare foot to the nearest tree, before she too emptied the contents of her stomach onto the roadside. Derek got out of the car and surveyed the situation, resting his hands on the back of this head, and looking despairingly between the boy vomiting in his car and the girl bent over, puking next to a tree.

He didn't know how he managed to find the strength of will to wrestle a crying, struggling Lydia back into the car, or how he managed to drive them all the way to Stiles' house with the windows down. Nothing more was said the rest of the journey. Derek didn't trust himself to say anything without wolfing out and killing them, Stiles was now pretty much asleep and Lydia was quietly crying, hanging most of the way out of the open window. Getting them into the house was easier than Derek thought it would be, since they were now acting like scolded children, hanging their heads in shame, avoiding eye contact. Lydia allowed him to pick her up without so much as a word of complaint, since her feet were now scratched and bleeding from her little jaunt into the road. Even Stiles managed to wake himself up enough to obediently follow them up the stairs, stumbling and holding on to walls the whole way.

He considered throwing her on the bed, his mind still clouded with rage over his car, but he managed to control himself at the last minute and instead laid her down gently, eliciting a small, sniffly "thank you" from her, as if she knew that he'd wanted to throw her. Derek wasn't sure how the sleeping arrangements would work, but Stiles just headed automatically to the other side of the bed and climbed in after her, and since Lydia either didn't notice or didn't mind, Derek decided to just let it go. He looked around the room awkwardly. Perhaps he should go? Maybe they wouldn't even remember him being here. He could just leave and avoid any awkward questions. A loud snore from Stiles filled the room and Derek sighed, realising he couldn't just leave. He'd never forgive himself if he'd been through all this and then one of them choked to death in their sleep. He settled down in the chair in the corner of the room, suddenly exhausted, noticing Lydia reach behind her and take Stiles hand in her own, pulling it close against her chest. He frowned, and, just before he let sleep take over, he let himself wonder who exactly he was jealous of.

* * *

Derek finished his story and sat back, taking a sip of coffee. Lydia had stared at her coffee cup the entire time, not actually drinking any, and Stiles had got halfway through the story before jumping up and starting to do the washing up. Derek had told them a watered down version of events - one that left out the parts that he wasn't proud of, mostly eavesdropping and dirty thoughts, and played up their own poor behaviour. He had started the story by making out that he had just happened to bump into a crying Lydia in the woods, and had relished in describing the rest of their evening in excuciating detail. Stiles had jumped up at the part of the story where he'd told Lydia he loved her, and had been obsessively cleaning the same mug in the sink ever since, while Lydia had been sitting, pale and shaking, staring at an untouched mug of coffee. Derek leaned back in his chair, enjoying the last of his drink, revelling in the embarassment of the two teens. He didn't often enjoy other people's discomfort, but he had found Stiles and Lydia's embarrassment particularly entertaining. The silence between them all stretched on, and Derek looked between them both expectantly, waiting for someone to say something.

"Bet that's the most action your car's seen in months." Derek stared at Lydia, intrigued that she had been the first to speak and that she had managed to muster up an insult. He turned in shock as he heard a snigger from Stiles.

It was official. They were unstoppable. The banter could not be stopped.

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**Yay! First chapter from Derek's POV! He's hard to write cause he doesn't talk much. I wrote this and tried to submit it before work, and ran out of time, then had the sudden brainwave at work to add the bit at the end, as if he was telling them the whole story. Killed two birds with one stone. Yay! Anyhoo, I am officially out of ideas... Any idea would be uber appreciated! I heart any sort of feedback... as long as it's positive. :) **

**xxx**


	4. The Lie

**Hi guys! I FINALLY have an idea of where I'm going with this story! I re-read what I'd written so far and sat down and brainstormed, old school stylee with paper and pen, and now I finally have a plan. This might actually turn out kinda long-ish. There'll be slightly shorter chapters, but more of them. I hope you enjoy! This story's definitely taking some shape now. As always though, there's room for suggestions and if anyone has any ideas, I'd love to hear them. Reviews are love! **

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The next couple of days passed without incident. Despite Stiles wanting to talk about what had happened, Lydia simply threatened to "punch him in the throat" if he told anyone and he was inclined to believe she meant it. The girl who came back to school on Monday morning was not the pale, shaking mess that had stumbled out of Stiles' kitchen that day - Lydia was back, with a vengeance.

She had swept past the table of people who had been lying to her for so long without so much as a glance their way, and plopped herself down at her old table, filled with cheerleaders and lacrosse girlfriends. They had shared frightened glances before turning their vapid little eyes on her, expectantly. They had been without a leader for so long, and Lydia knew that these girls craved a leader, a queen bee to follow and agree with. She fit right back into her old role, managing to chit chat about nothing with all of them, glad that it had been so easy to fit back in with her old friends. She wondered why she had put this off for so long, why she had stayed hanging out with people who barely talked to her, who ignored her ideas even when she was the only was speaking any sense. Chancing a glance over at their table, she briefly locked eyes with Stiles, who had been staring across at her, sadly. He flashed her a quick smile, which she did not return before turning back to the conversation going on at his table. No-one but Stiles seemed to have noticed she wasn't sitting with them. It just intensified her desire to reaffirm the shallow friendships with the girls she now sat with. They might not be mensa candidates, but at least they listened to her, even if it was only about which plumping lip gloss works the best. A shrill drone snapped her out of her reverie.

"Lydia? Lydia?"

She shook herself, taking a deep breath and ignoring Stiles' eyes burning a hole into the side of her head.

"Yeah?"

The tiny blonde girl next to her took a sip of her diet coke, before speaking.

"I said, what are you wearing to the spring formal?"

Lydia had clear forgotten about the upcoming dance.

"Oh. Erm..." The table of girls all put down their various zero calorie snacks and turned to look at her, waiting patiently for her answer. The truth was she had no intention of going to the dance, but she guessed that would have to change now. She recovered quickly. "My father's having something shipped in from Paris."

A chorus of "ooohs!" and "you're _so_ lucky"'s rang out from the table, and Lydia breathed a sigh of relief. She had forgotten what it was like to lie and not have werewolf hearing detect the dishonesty. It was somehow freeing to know she could tell these girls whatever she wanted and they would simply believe her.

The blonde, Tiffany, spoke again, leaning in for a stage whisper.

"We were all so sorry to hear about you and Jackson. Have you heard from him at all?" Lydia stiffened, glancing at the sickly sweet expression on the girl's face. Several of the other girls had stopped talking now and had turned to her, pity written all over their faces. One even reached forward to pat Lydia's hand, in what she probably thought was a supportive gesture.

Lydia shook her head, her curls bouncing wildly around her face.

"Oh no, no. He's fine. I spoke with him just the other day," she lied, easily, a smile plastered to her face. "Intensive lacrosse training camp in Florida. The very best." She leaned in, whispering now, like it was all some big secret. "There's rumours he might be going pro."

The table erupted into another excited round of "oooh"s and tiny hand claps. Lydia couldn't believe they were buying it so easily. She guessed they believed what they wanted to believe. They _wanted_ to believe that Jackson was at some lacrosse camp, and hadn't, in fact, dumped their queen bee and took off without looking back. They _wanted_ to believe that Lydia was back, and that she was happy and fine and ready to reassert her position at the top of the social ladder. Lydia sighed to herself. She wished she could believe it all too.

"Uh, oh. Tramp alert." Tiffany muttered under her breath. Lydia turned to see Erica walking in, in yet another stripper outfit, a confident grin on her face. Looking her up and down, Lydia admired her confidence, but couldn't hide the tiny flash of judgement she felt at seeing the girl walk in the lunch room wearing leather trousers and a dark purple corset that Lydia didn't believe had been designed to wear as outerwear. The table all averted their eyes as she neared. They might judge her, but that didn't mean they weren't scared of her. The blonde's outbursts were becoming legendary, and in a strange way, she was vying with all of them for most popular girl in school. They might be the social leaders, but everyone loved a bad girl, and Erica's antics were starting to get noticed. Lydia knew that Erica had heard Tiffany's little comment, and silently prayed she would ignore them. Her prayers went unanswered though as Erica swung and headed right for them, slamming her hands on the table, making the girls all jump.

Erica ignored them all, and fixed her eyes on Lydia, her painted red lips curling into a confident grin. Lydia cocked her head to the side, raising her eyebrows expectantly, trying to match Erica's confident demeanour.

"Derek wants to see you." Lydia's confidence faltered a little, as she heard a tiny gasp from Tiffany. "He has your shoes," she added, before casting a sweeping smirk around the table and turning to leave, taking a carrot stick with her.

Lydia calculated for a moment. Should she act surprised, like she had no clue what Erica was talking about? Maybe try and spin it that Erica was crazy and was talking nonsense? She balked a little at spreading rumours like that, knowing how hurtful they could be after her months as a social pariah. She glanced up at the table, who were all staring at her like she had grown another head.

She was pretty sure she could see one girl already sliding a phone out of her pocket, clearing readying to send a text that had the potential to destroy Lydia all over again. She was silent for a second, before calculating the best plan of action and smiling broadly.

"Wow. Subtle!" She laughed nervously, nodding her head at Erica's retreating form.

"What the hell, Lydia?" One of the girls asked.

"You got me! Secret's out!" Lydia said, brightly.

"What? Derek? Derek Hale?" Tiffany asked, incredulously. The girls all glanced between each other, looking for reassurance on how to feel on the matter. They all seemed to settle on horrified, turning worried little expressions back to her.

"What? He's hot!" Lydia shot back.

"Er, yeah. And a murderer!" The other girls tutted in disapproval.

Lydia swallowed her frustration at their ignorance. She wanted to correct them, to explain exactly why they were wrong, but that wouldn't fit in with the vapid persona she had created for herself.

"Well... That was never proven." She took a shaky swig of diet coke to buy herself an extra second. "And besides, he's hot, older, dangerous and drives a camaro. What's not to like?"

Her eyes swept the table, searching to see if her gamble had paid off, as they all took a moment to take it all in.

"But he's like, old!" Tiffany's little brain struggled to process it all.

"24," Lydia guessed, nodding. "I am BEYOND done with high school boys." She announced dramatically. She noticed several of the girls starting to come round, nodding and beginning to smile wickedly.

Tiffany however, was not quite convinced.

"Why does he have your shoes?" She asked, her eyes narrowed.

Lydia leaned in dramatically, stifling a laugh as all the other girls mimicked her action, craning to hear her response.

She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Well, you know how it is. The heat of the moment. Sometimes shoes get lost in the fray." She winked for emphasis, and with that, the table was won. The girls erupted into giggles and questions, and even Tiffany smirked at her.

She interrupted the noise suddenly.

"But it's all very hush hush. You can't tell anyone." She leaned forward again, and they copied her once more. "He could go to jail!"

Lydia sat back in her chair, trying hard to stop the grin that wanted to spread over her face as she surveyed the giggling gossiping now taking place. It had been too easy to worm her way back into these girl's heads. A hint of a juicy scandal, especially one where the guy could go to _jail_ for her, and they were once again eating out of the palm of her hand. Lydia felt triumphant and pretended she couldn't still feel Stiles' eyes on her, as she leaned forward and took another bite of her salad. She was back on top, and his sad little eyes would not be bringing her down.

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**Is professional lacrosse a thing? I don't even know. Let's just pretend it is, and it is fairly believable that Jackson's gone off to be a pro lacrosse player. Let's not start pulling at threads or the whole thing will unravel.**

**Hope you're still all enjoying this. I know Stiles isn't featuring much. I actually kinda downgraded his part in it all from what it was originally going to be. Don't worry. He will still be a fairly big part of the story. **

**Anyhoo, reviews are greatly appreciated! xxx**


	5. Reconnecting

**Sorry about such a long gap without updating (well, like, a week! But it felt longer). Life's been a bit mental recently. My whole world has been turned upside down and writing was the last thing on my mind. But I'm back with a new chapter, where Lydia's lie continues to spiral out of control. Enjoy!**

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The next morning, Lydia steeled herself to go to Derek's house and get her shoes back. Some people might have just left them, too embarrassed to face the man who had seen her at her very worst, but her shoes probably cost more than his car was worth, and she wouldn't abandon her babies.

She pulled up outside his house and paused to check her reflection in the mirror. She fluffed her hair up a little and reached into her bag, applying another coat of lip gloss, before shaking herself. What was she doing? Prettying herself to go into a crap shack and get shoes off a man who didn't like her? Get in, get out and get to school - That was the plan.

She marched up the steps purposefully, halting in her tracks when the door suddenly swung open in front of her. Derek stood in the doorway, silhouetted in early morning light. Sighing, she crossed the last few steps towards him and stared him down.

"Morning, Derek," she said brightly, shooting him a short smile.

He didn't reply. Just wordlessly handed her the strappy pink heels that had been hanging from his hand. They were covered in mud and scuffed in places, but she was still grateful to see them. She was already silently working out where to take them to have them fixed as she took them gratefully into her hands. He held onto them for a second longer than was necessary, and she looked up into his eyes, finding them glaring back at her. She paled a little. He looked so angry, she briefly wondered if he somehow knew what she had told her friends yesterday. She knew he wouldn't be happy about being used a cover, but how would he have found out?

"Thanks," she muttered, casting her eyes down, shyly. When she looked back up at him, his expression had softened a little and she decided there was no way he could know. He said nothing in response, just turned to head back into the house. She called after him and he paused, facing away from her.

"I appreciate it," she said to his back. "The shoes, I mean." She shook the shoes slightly for emphasis, though they both knew that's not what she was talking about. She couldn't bring herself to mention the embarrassment of the other night, so she hoped he'd know what she meant.

He turned back for a second and nodded at her, which she curtly returned, before they both turned away from each other and she stalked back to her car.

* * *

"Why do you smell like Derek Hale?" Allison asked, accusingly. It was lunch and Lydia had been walking to her table when Allison had roughly grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. She shook her arm, trying to free herself from Allison's grip.

"Let go of me!" she demanded. Allison relaxed her grip on Lydia's arm but continued to stare down at Lydia with something akin to worry etched across her face.

"Scott... Scott said you smell like him. He said your shoes smell like Derek?" She asked, clearly confused by whatever Scott had said to her. With most of the nonsense that Scott came out with, Lydia wasn't surprised she was sceptical about it.

"So what if I do?" Lydia hissed back, ignoring the concerned look Allison was giving her. They stepped just outside of the door of the dining hall, away from the noise and the prying eyes of both their tables.

Lydia crossed her arms in front of her, defiantly.

Allison glanced around and leaned in close.

"He killed my mother, Lydia." Allison's eyes shined with unshed tears and for a second, Lydia just wanted to forget about everything and forgive her. "He's dangerous."

The girls shared a look, before Lydia shook herself. She would not forgive Allison, or any of the rest of them. They kept her in the dark. _They_ were the ones who put her in danger, by lying to her about everything that was happening around her. _They_ were the dangerous ones, not Derek Hale.

"Your mother killed herself, Allison." She said coldly, wrenching a gasp from Allison. "And who I may or may not smell like is not of your concern."

She turned and flounced off, trying hard not to instantly regret her harsh words. Daring a quick glance round, she saw her words had landed, and couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at what she had said. It's true though, she reminded herself. Derek hadn't killed Allison's mom, and, though she liked to pretend, Allison knew that. Why should Allison care who Lydia spent time with? With a start, Lydia began to wonder why Allison was showing such an interest in whether or not she had spent time with Derek. Her little lie couldn't have gotten out, could it? She glanced uneasily around the lunch room, noticing a few people staring in her direction, averting their eyes and whispering when she looked their way. She was used to that though. Months of being the town crazy person had seen her get used to people pointing and whispering about her. This was no more than usual. No, surely if her little lie had got out, there'd be more uproar than this? Lydia didn't realise how right she was.

A few hours later, Lydia let herself into her house, humming an absent minded tune as she swung her Macy's bag around. After school, her little clique had all hit the mall and Lydia had cheered herself up after her encounter with Allison by buying up half the store. Strolling into her gloomy house, she froze when a voice rang out from the figure sitting at her kitchen table.

"Lydia, we need to talk."

Lydia gulped as the voice of her mother rang out into the kitchen. She thrust her chin into the air and swept past the worried-looking woman, depositing her bag on the table.

"What about, _mother_?" Lydia put special emphasis on the word mother, knowing she hated it.

"I've just come from a PTA meeting." Lydia's mom announced, matter of factly, staring hard at her daughter.

"Yeah, so?" Lydia was acting like a brat and she knew it. She just couldn't help it around her mom - she brought out the worst in her. Ever since her parent's divorce, Lydia couldn't help but antagonise them both.

"So, I heard something interesting from one of the other parents." Lydia stiffened, as her mind reeled with what her mom could be referring to.

"Apparently, you're dating an older boy? A Derek Hale?" Lydia stared at her mother, her mouth hanging open in shock. Mrs Martin regarded her with a cool expression. Her little lie had spun out of control. She should have known those vapid little idiots couldn't keep their mouths shut, and now she was paying the price for her dishonesty. Lydia rarely had no idea what to do - She always had a plan or a way out of a situation. But she couldn't see a way out of this one. She could deny it, but with everything that had happened to her recently, she doubted her mother would believe her. Any way she tried to spin this would probably end with another trip to the shrink's office. As she frantically considered her options, her mother spoke again.

"I also bumped into Victoria Argent while I was there." Lydia's heart pounded hard in her chest, knowing what the following words would be.

"Apparently she didn't see you on Friday, which I thought strange, since you supposedly slept at her house?" Her mother's gaze was steely as Lydia gulped.

Once again, she was stuck for words. She had been on the verge of denying the whole Derek thing before her mother had dropped that bombshell, but there was no way to explain where she really had been that night without involving Stiles. And, even if she left out the part where Stiles had supplied her with stolen liquor, she doubted her mother would accept that she had simply spent the night hanging out with some boy she barely knew. At the very least, she would want to talk to Stiles' dad about the whole thing and then Stiles would be in trouble too and it would all be her fault. Her mom was still looking at her expectantly and Lydia made her decision quickly. She was used to putting on an act every day, so pretending to shyly admit to dating Derek would be nothing. She would accept the lecture from her mom, promise to end things with Derek and the whole thing would be over. Maybe she'd even throw in some tears, make it all seem more believable. She sighed, dramatically, ready for her performance.

"It's true," she whispered, casting her eyes down, nervously. "Me and Derek. We're... dating." She hoped the pause in her voice would be enough to make her mother think that taking her daughter out on actual dates was the last thing on the older boy's mind. Her mother's expression was unreadable as she suddenly launched herself out of her seat and came to stand in front of her. Lydia braced herself for the wave of moral outrage. It never came.

Suddenly, she was enveloped in a crushing hug, the first from her mom since before the divorce. Stunned, Lydia reached up with uncertain hands to pat her mother on the back awkwardly.

"Oh honey," her mom breathed against her shoulder, clearly fighting against tears. Oh lord. Lydia wondered if she'd gone too far. She knew she was underage and it would look bad, but she thought her mom would just demand that they broke up. Perhaps she thought Lydia was some kind of victim in all this? She tried to picture the look on Derek's face if her mom barged into his house, accusing him of taking advantage of her daughter. This was a bad idea.

Her mom pulled away from her and Lydia was confused when she saw that she was smiling through her tears.

"I know why you didn't tell me. I know you feel like you can't talk to me." She reached up to smooth the hair away from her face.

"But you can. You can talk to me." Her face was soft now, and Lydia blinked back tears. Guilt washed over her. Her mom was so happy that her daughter was finally being honest with her, when in fact, she was being anything but. She had no choice but to continue now, let her mother think she was finally opening up after months of silent resentment filling the house.

"You're not mad?" She asked, in a small voice. She felt stupid for playing along with the lie, but it felt natural somehow, getting caught up in the emotion of the moment. She hated herself for lying now, but her mom looked so happy, it was hard not to want to play along.

"Oh honey. Does he treat you right? Does he treat you better than that jerk Jackson?" They both laughed softly, and Lydia nodded, sniffling back tears as her mom continued tenderly stroking her hair away from her face.

"Then no. I'm not mad." She pulled her back into a tight hug, and this time, Lydia relaxed into it.

"Tea?"

Lydia nodded gratefully, taking at seat at the table, content to had finally reconnected with her mother, and trying to pretend to herself that it wasn't all over a lie.

* * *

**I know, I know. Kinda short and not really worth the wait. Let's be honest, this chapter was mainly filler. I'm setting it all up for some drama coming up soon. I just re-read the full story plan that I came up with reeeeally late at night a few weeks back, and I'd forgotten how much I actually kinda love where I'm going with this. So, stick with me... It's gonna pick up real soon. Promise. :)**

**As always, reviews are major love. I read them all, and I try to respond to pretty much all of them now, so drop me a review guys - I love to hear what you're thinking!**

**xx**


	6. Reputation

**Oh dear. Guest reviewer perfectstranger pointed out that in the same chapter that I pointed out that Allison's mom was dead, I also had her telling Lydia's mom that she didn't stay with her. What a numpty. Apologies. There's no supernatural weirdness at work or anything - That was just an oversight from writing late into the night. Pretend that it was Chris Argent who talked to Lydia's mom... That makes more sense. **

* * *

The next day, Lydia forced herself to walk around school with the same attitude that the old Lydia had had. She could feel people's eyes on her, curious whispers drifting over to her every now and again. She wasn't imagining it when she thought she heard the name "Derek Hale" whispered more than a few times that day. Her table at lunch was full of questions and giggles but she batted her eyelashes coyly and said that she wasn't going to talk about it. Lydia was used to being the girl that people whispered about, and it was never something she had got used to. Things were different this time though. The whispers were more gossipy than vicious this time. The looks being thrown at her were questioning glances rather than the cruel glares from a few months ago. Lydia was back to being queen bee and a sexy scandal wouldn't be enough to take her down this time, so she kept her chin high in the air as she stalked through the halls. She was secretly enjoying being the centre of attention again now that there was no malice in the gossip, and smirked to herself as she strode confidently towards the school entrance.

Suddenly a hand clamped down around her upper arm and she was dragged into an empty classroom. She squeaked indignantly as she wrenched her arm out of Stiles' grasp. He glared down at her and she huffed and grumbled while she smoothed her clothes down.

"Are you out of your mind?!" She screeched at him.

"Are YOU?" He shot back at her. She glared up at him, her arms crossed defensively over her chest.

"What are you talking about?"

"Why is there a rumour going around that you're dating Derek Hale?" Lydia paled, and tried not to let her defiant glare falter.

"Because my mom found out that I didn't stay at Allison's the other night so I had to lie."

Stiles stared at her for a moment before she continued.

"You should be grateful! I was covering your ass!"

"I didn't ask you to do that!" Stiles shouted back at her. Lydia wasn't sure why he was so mad at her. She had lied to keep him out of trouble. He should be happy.

"I didn't ask you to throw away your reputation to cover for me!" He was shouting now, his words filling the dark empty classroom. Lydia blanched at his words, suddenly realising why he was so angry. Safe, sensible Stiles. Always so worried about what other people thought. He'd never been popular - He didn't understand how it worked.

"I'm not 'throwing my reputation away'. I'm rebuilding it!" She snapped back at him.

"As a slut?!" Lydia flinched as Stiles spat the words at her.

"Because that's what people are saying, Lydia! You think that's better than being a nutjob?!" The words hung between them heavily. Stiles had never talked to her like this before. She'd been called worse before but never by him, never by anyone who really mattered to her. He was right up in her face, so he could see the exact moment his words hit. Her vision blurred with tears that she willed not to fall. They did anyway. He took a step back suddenly, realising he had gone too far as Lydia's head dropped down to stare at the floor. He ran his hand through his buzzcut and sighed deeply.

"Lydia.. I..." He started helplessly. He had never meant for it to come out that way. He thought he couldn't feel any worse than he did, but then she raised her face to look at him and he hit rock bottom. This was different to when he saw her cry in the woods. She had been undone then, but the Lydia in front of him was a girl who was trying desperately to keep it together. Her bottom lip wobbled and she rubbed furiously under her eyes, trying to stop the tears that flowed from them. She had clearly given up on waterproof mascara since the other night, since her makeup was running down her face in tracks. Perhaps she thought her crying days were behind her and the thought made his heart hurt.

He took a step towards her and she jumped back, holding her hand up to stop him.

"Don't," Lydia breathed.

"Lydia. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it."

"Yes you did," she whispered, sniffling hard and abruptly turning towards the door.

She ran blindly towards the school entrance, ignoring Stiles' shouting after her. The bell had gone a few minutes ago, so there weren't many people still loitering in the halls, but the ones that were turned to look at with ill disguised intrigue. Ignoring them, she ran on, trying to cover her blotchy, smeared face with her hands. As she dashed out into the late afternoon sunshine, she realised that it wasn't as late as she thought.

Though there hadn't been many people inside the school, the parking lot was awash with students and all of a sudden she felt like it was her first day back at school after she had disappeared all over again. Everyone stopped to stare at her as she burst out of the doors, and Lydia gasped, suddenly wishing she had waited in that empty classroom for everyone to leave.

She took a few shaky steps towards her car, pushing through the crowd, trying to ignore the interested stares of the teens surrounding her. She felt like a lamb to the slaughter and felt the tears begin to fall again. Her fragile grip was slipping in the face of losing everything again. In the crowd she found a familiar face staring at her with concern. It was Allison, standing next to Scott, and even after all the horrible things that they'd said to each other, she was still looking at Lydia with a worried little frown on her face. She went to take a step towards Lydia, but Scott's arm flew out suddenly to stop her. Both Lydia and Allison looked at him confused for a moment, as his eyes closed and he inhaled deeply, sniffing the air and looking troubled. Before Lydia could register what it meant, a sudden rustling in the crowd distracted her as the teens started murmuring in a ripple effect from the back. Lydia gasped when the crowds parted and Derek Hale was revealed, walking towards her looking cool as ever in his standard jeans/vest/leather jacket combo. Lydia wasn't the only one staring, as most of the already intrigued student's mouths dropped open. She could tell they were torn between envy and alarm as the older, dangerous murder suspect stalked towards their queen bee.

She held her breath, knowing exactly how to feel. She settled on terrified. If he was here and heading straight for her, then her little white lie must have somehow got back to him. She trembled as he stalked towards her, once again feeling like a lamb to the slaughter. She shrank back against the car behind her, trying to disappear into herself to avoid the inevitable scene that was about to follow.

"Hey babe," he purred at her, flashing her a brilliant grin.

* * *

**Oooooh! Cliffhanger! We're starting to get into the plot a bit more now. I know some of you might find Derek a little OOC here, but think about the time when he had to distract the policewoman and MAJORLY turned on the charm. He IS capable of it! And I just wanted to write a little slice of That Derek - Sexy, charming, flirty Derek. Because I think he's my favourite Derek of all. ;)**

**Sorry this chapter was so short. I just really wanted to cut off at the moment of the big Derek reveal! Ooh, also, I'm thinking of doing another flashback chapter from Derek's POV again, showing what he's been doing while Lydia's been regaining her popularity. What we thinking? **

**Anyhoo, happy valentine's day! Remember to review because it will the highlight of my sad, lonely little day today. Not to guilt you into reviewing or aaaaanything! Ha!**

**xxx**


	7. Slut

**Two chapters in 24 hours? You lucky things! And this one's a big un' aswell! I have a dreadful cold so I couldn't sleep and just stayed up all night, wrapped up in 3 blankets, writing this behemoth. It's alot longer than I originally intended, but i just love writing Derek. He's so socially awkward! I heart him! Enjoy!**

* * *

_"Hey babe," he purred at her, flashing her a brilliant grin._

Her brow furrowed in disbelief for a second. She had never seen Derek smile before, especially not the face splitting grin he was throwing her way now. Before she could begin to fathom what was going on, he cupped her face in his hands and crushed his lips against hers. He rubbed his thumbs over her cheeks and she heard the girls in the crowd sigh enviously. The kiss was over before it had begun and he moved to plant a soft kiss against her cheek, whispering "Come on" in her ear before pulling away from her and flashing her a brief look. He took her hand and she let him lead her away with numb, stumbling feet. She wasn't sure what was happening, but as she made eye contact with a stunned Allison, she tried to rearrange her face into something like a smile. Allison flashed her a tiny, worried smile back and Scott just looked utterly confused by the whole thing. Lydia knew how he felt. What was Derek doing? She allowed him to lead her through the crowd, coming back to her senses enough to plaster a smug smile on her face for the sake of the flabbergasted onlookers. He opened the passenger door of the Camaro for her, surprising her again, and she slipped inside the cool, dark interior, finally releasing the breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

* * *

"Good morning, nephew." Peter smiled brightly at him from the sofa in Derek's new apartment. He had finally decided that he'd needed a proper place to live after living in dust and ash and memories for too long. Unfortunately, he was quite frequently ambushed by an unwelcome house guest in the form of his uncle. No matter how many locks he put on the doors and windows, he would repeatedly find the older man calmly sitting on his simple Ikea sofa, like he was welcoming him home. Derek sighed heavily and took his jacket off, neatly hanging it on the hook by the door. Though it had never bothered him before, he was strangely proud of his new, tidy little apartment and wanted to keep it that way.

He rubbed the back of his neck, wincing slightly as he did so. His neck was still aching from spending the night trying to sleep in a tiny computer chair in the corner of Stiles' room. No matter how much he tried to sleep, he was woken up every few minutes by the sound of Stiles' snoring or Lydia murmuring in her sleep and had eventually given up on the idea of sleep altogether to simply watch them. He found his own thoughts troubling as he had watched Stiles snuggle in a little closer to Lydia, pulling her tighter against him. Their peaceful faces reminded him of how young they really were and he felt disgusted with himself at how close he had come to pulling the car over earlier and... And what? What would he have done? The feel of Lydia's soft body against him as he had carried her played on his mind and the sight of her bare leg peeking out from under the sheet did nothing to quell his thoughts.

He let his eyes drift to Stiles where he peacefully slumbered. Half of his face was buried in Lydia's red curls, but he could just about make out the other half in the darkness of the room. His dark eyelashes were fanned out against his cheek and his face was unusually tranquil. The thought of burying himself inside Lydia was definitely attractive, but he couldn't look away from the pale skin of Stiles' arm as it wrapped around her. He pictured those arms snaking around his neck, pulling him closer. He shook himself, shifting awkwardly in his seat. As they moved again, Stiles' hand settling on her breast and Lydia unconsciously rubbing back against him, Derek had to wrench his eyes away from them. The thoughts running through his head were making him sick with disgust at himself, and he spent the rest of the night staring out of the window, ignoring the rustles and snores coming from the bed behind him.

And now he found himself at home at 7am after sticking around briefly to smugly inform the pair of them of their behaviour the night before. He was exhausted and stifled a yawn as Peter continued to stare at him curiously. He suddenly sprang up out of his chair and Derek shot him a weary look that said he was too tired to deal with him right now. He stopped right in front of Derek and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

"You smell like her." Peter announced simply. Derek didn't need to ask who he was talking about.

"Not now, Peter. Go home." Derek warned, turning away from him and heading to the kitchen. He needed more coffee. The whole night had left him tired and irritable.

"Oh Derek. Always so quick to dismiss me. I'm merely curious. How was she?" Peter followed him into the kitchen, his tone light and playful.

Derek sighed, most of his attention on his new coffee maker that he didn't quite understand yet.

"What?"

"How was she? A little hellcat? I imagine she's a scratchy, bitey little thing. It's really a pity she can't be turned. She'd make a delightful addition to the pack."

Derek dropped the absurdly small espresso cup he had been holding and turned to face Peter.

"You think...? She's just a child, Peter." Derek's face contorted with disgust, feeling hypocritical. He was judging Peter for thinking the exact same things he'd been thinking. At least Derek kept his thoughts to himself. Peter just didn't know how.

"Oh, please! She's 17! And have you _seen_ her? She's no child. And she smells incredible." He leaned forward, his nose almost touching Derek's shoulder as he sniffed deeply again. Derek jerked back and Peter regarded him inquisitively.

"Something else?" He murmured, almost to himself. "The boy? The boy with the beautiful golden eyes?" He cocked his head to the side and smirked questioningly.

"Oh dear nephew. What _have_ you been up to?" He winked salaciously and Derek flinched away from him.

"I drove them home. They were drunk." Derek felt like that was enough. As Peter's eyes lit up, he realised it was too much.

"And you didn't bring them both straight to me? Oh, I'm hurt! I would have take such good care of them."

Derek sighed. There were times when he could tolerate Peter. There were times when he was borderline amusing, though Derek would never admit it. This was not one of those times. He turned back to the coffee maker, signalling that the conversation was over.

"Go home, Peter."

"So touchy!" Peter teased, turning to head towards the door.

"Maybe I'll stop by and see Lydia. Make sure she's feeling OK." He muttered under his breath.

In a heartbeat, Derek was across the room and had his hands fisted in the front of Peter's jacket, shoving him up against the door.

"You'll stay away from her," he said menacingly, almost unnervingly quietly. His eyes flashed red at him, warning him.

"Or maybe I'll go and see the boy with those lovely golden eyes. The one who smells like lust whenever you're around." Derek ignored his pointed implication.

"You'll stay away from both of them." Derek growled at him, deep and low.

"Ok, ok. I'll let her come to me." Derek shot him an incredulous look. "It's only a matter of time. I was inside her head. It's only fair that she'd miss me."

"You're insane." Derek spat the words at him, releasing his grip slightly.

"No, I think you'll find _she's_ insane. Ask anyone. It's only a matter of time till she decides to drown her sorrows again. Maybe next time she'll run into me, not you."

Derek felt his fangs lengthen at Peter's words, felt his eyes burn red in their sockets.

"Poor little Lydia. Don't worry. I'll take care of her. In some ways it's a shame she can't be turned. In other ways, it's a gift."

Derek's hands unconsciously curled into fists, feeling his lengthened claws digging into his palms.

"Won't die. Won't turn." Derek's whole body hummed with tension. He wanted to say something, to stop Peter from talking, but holding onto his last shred of restraint was taking up all of his concentration. Peter let his eyes close, clearing relishing his words. "Mmm. The thought of sinking my teeth into her again and again and knowing she'll stay human. Stay fragile. Stay weak-"

Peter's words were cut off as a roar was ripped from Derek's mouth. The room shook and even strong, confident Peter shrank down against the door, surprised by the sound.

"Leave." Derek shook with the effort of staying still as he choked the word out. Peter had regained his usual composure and coolly turned towards the door.

"Ok. I'm going, I'm going. No need for dramatics-"

"No. Leave. Leave this pack. I banish you. You are free to find another pack or to become an omega. Either way, you are no longer welcome here." Derek spoke calmly now and it was Peter's turn to look flustered. The smirk slid from his face.

"Wait... Come on, Derek. We're family."

"Not anymore." Derek's words were cold and he turned his face to look away from Peter.

"You can't... You can't banish me."

"It is done." Derek said, his tone formal and clipped. "You are dismissed." He finished, simply. Without another word, Peter nodded, the dumbstuck look still on his face, and turned to leave. Derek stood alone for a moment, staring at the closed door. He couldn't believe what he had just done. He had banished the last surviving member of his family. He was alone in every sense. Peter could be a pain in the ass sometimes but he was still family. Derek took a step towards the door, about to call out after him, call him back and apologise. But something stopped him. He couldn't ignore Peter's intentions. Whether or not he meant it or not, he had threatened humans and that went against everything that his family's code stood for. It had stood for generations and it was very clear - Humans were to be protected, at all costs.

_Not just any humans. You like them. You want them. You're throwing away your family for a crush on two underage kids._ A tiny voice in his head piped up, but his shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. No. That wasn't it. It had nothing to do with that. He had done what was necessary to protect the humans of Beacon Hills. Even if those human's scent was all over him, clouding his senses and making him think dark thoughts that would put Peter's to shame. Sighing deeply, he rubbed his eyes and went to take a shower. He'd feel better after some sleep. He'd wash their scent off him and would just stay away from them. They were both safe now.

* * *

The following day he was out for a run, this time fully human, when he found himself back in the clearing from the previous night. He hadn't meant to end up back here, but his feet had led him here all the same. His foot kicked absent mindedly at the bottle of jack daniels that now lay haphazardly on it's side. He tutted under his breath, a tiny part of him wanting to tidy up their mess. A flash of shiny pink leather glinting in the bright, crisp sunlight caught his eye and he moved closer towards it. As he got closer, he realised it was a pair of tiny, strappy pink heels, a complicated mess of shiny straps and little suede bows. Sighing heavily, he remembered Lydia cutting her feet the other night after running barefoot through the woods. He could still smell the metallic tang of her blood now and suddenly felt immensely stupid for not even considering going back to find her shoes.

_You just wanted to carry her._ The little voice in his head was back, but he tried to ignore it. She was too drunk to stand. He'd had no choice to carry her and her fancy shoes were the last thing on his mind. Bending down, he scooped the shoes up and stared at them as if they were going to bite him. They seemed absurdly tiny to him, like they were made for a doll, not a woman. A girl, Derek corrected himself. Starting to think of Lydia as a woman was dangerous territory.

* * *

"Just do it, Erica." Derek's tone was low and threatening, but Erica wasn't falling for it. She rolled her eyes at him.

"No," she said, defiantly, her hand on her hip. Derek switched tactics.

"Please, Erica," his voice pleading now. The shoes dangled from his hand in front of her, swinging back and forth like he was trying to hypnotise her into doing his bidding.

"I'm not touching them. They're all dirty. And pink." She spat the word pink like it was worse than them being dirty.

"I'm not asking you to wear them. Just take them back to her."

"Why do you even have them?" Erica asked, adjusting her top that was clearly some form of underwear. Derek couldn't believe that it was supposed to be worn outside of the bedroom. He gave her a pointed look and she stared innocently back at him.

"What?"

"I gave you my credit card to buy clothes." He emphasised the word 'clothes'.

"Yeah?" Erica shot back, suddenly acting every bit the sixteen year old she was. "So? What's wrong? Don't like what you see?" She asked flirtatiously, stalking towards him with her chest thrust forwards. To his credit, he barely glanced at her well-dressed cleavage before gently placing his hands on her arms, stopping her. His mind flitted back to that day she had launched herself at him in the train depot. It had felt wrong even then. He briefly wondered why the thought of being with Erica seemed so wrong to him, but Lydia and Stiles still intrigued him. She was less than a year younger than both of them, but his feelings for her were different altogether to the thoughts he was having about the teens who'd made out in his car.

Erica was still leaning into him, her breasts brushing up against his chest, a conceited smile on her face. Her weight was still braced against his hands and he gently pushed her backwards away from him.

"You look like a streetwalker," he grumbled. Erica laughed brightly.

"Perfect! Exactly what I was going for," she giggled at him as he frowned back at her, trying to fight the smile that threatened to twitch at his lips.

"Now, stop trying to change the subject. Why exactly do you have Lydia Martin's shoes in your possession?"

He took a deep breath, running his free hand through his hair, exhausted by her.

"I just do. It's a long story. Just please take them back to her."

"No." She narrowed her eyes at him, the gossipy sixteen year old side of her desperate to know why he had them.

"You dare defy your Alpha?" Derek flashed his glowing eyes at her, his face falling when she chuckled and rolled her eyes again.

"Oh Derek. Don't pull that on me." She reached up to kiss him lightly on the cheek. "Silly wolf." She added. He would tear the throat out of anyone else who talked to him that way, but Erica knew she could get away with more than most.

She turned and flounced away from him, blonde curls bouncing wildly as she walked.

"I'll let Little Miss Immunity know where her shoes are. If she wants them, she can come and get them herself," she shouted over her shoulder.

Later that day, Erica had strutted away from Lydia's table after delivering her message, but waited just outside the door, training her keen werewolf hearing on the little table of imbeciles that Lydia was now hanging out with. Her eyes widened as she listened to Lydia telling them all about why Derek _really_ had her shoes in his possession. Could that be true? Derek was an enigma. He never gave much away, but she couldn't think of another reason why Derek would have Lydia's shoes with him. And it would explain why he was always rebuffing Erica's obvious advances.

She grasped wildly at the tall boy that sauntered past her in the hall.

"Isaac! You will never guess what I just heard!"

* * *

"So I hear you're banging Lydia Martin?" Isaac announced as he turned up at Derek's door. No hello. No preamble. Just straight to the point.

Derek paled at the words. Only in his dreams, was what he wanted to say. In fact, he didn't know how to respond to it.

"Where did you hear that?" As he said them, the words sounded incredibly stupid to him.

"So it's true?" Isaac's eyes widened and he pushed into Derek's apartment and sat down heavily on the sofa. "Shit."

"No. Of course not." Derek said, quickly.

"Well, that's what she's telling people."

"What? She told you that?"

"No. Of course not. Queen Lydia lower herself to talk to the likes of me? Please! I just... heard it at school." He hesitated to mention Erica's name. Derek had warned them against eavesdropping with their abilities, said it "cheapened the gift to listen in on tawdry gossip".

Isaac jumped up, heading to the fridge to grab himself a coke. He had been living with Boyd's family, but felt equally as home here, being the only one of the pack who had secretly been given a spare key.

Isaac sat back down and looked up at Derek expectantly. Derek had no idea what to say. Had he not been clear with Lydia? Had she not listened to what he had told her about the other night? Perhaps she thought he had been covering for himself, creating a fake story about her kissing Stiles when really he'd been the one taking advantage of her? He shuddered at the thought. Could she really believe that? Why else would she say something like that? Perhaps that would explain why she was so awkward with him when she'd met him to pick up her shoes. He thought she'd just been embarrassed by her drunkenness, but if she thought he was lying about something happening between them, he'd have to go and talk to her. Put the record straight.

"Did she...? Did she say anything else?"

Isaac narrowed his eyes at Derek suspiciously, before shrugging casually.

"That's all I know." He took a swig of his drink. "It's caused quite the scandal at school. It's all anyone can talk about. 'The nutjob and the murderer'." His voice trailed off as he realised what he was saying. "I mean... That's what some people are saying."

He lowered his gaze and hunched his shoulders, a habit from years of living with his father's abuse. Derek forced himself to uncurl the fists that had unconsciously formed at his sides. He didn't care what people said about him anymore, but he was sick of hearing about the humans involved in his pack getting hurt. He could go and see her now, but he didn't want to seem too pushy, especially if she believed they'd had some forgotten, drunken tryst. He resolved to go and meet her after school tomorrow, somewhere neutral where she wouldn't feel pressured to talk to him if she didn't want to.

Isaac was still looking up at him with wide, worried eyes and Derek rearranged his face into what he hoped was a softer expression. He never knew what to say when Isaac got like this, so he just flopped on the sofa next to him, and turned the TV on, feeling the boy relax straight away. He would deal with Lydia tomorrow.

* * *

Derek pulled up outside the school, wincing as the bell from inside rang too loud in his oversensitive ears. Kids began pouring out of the double doors and he started attracting curious looks. They seemed to only be vague glances because he was an older guy hanging out outside a school, but it would only be a matter of time before one of them recognised him as Derek Hale, murder suspect and now apparently the guy who was "banging Lydia Martin". Derek had faced monsters and murderers but a sea of intrigued teenagers was enough to send him into a panic. He hadn't thought this through. Why did he think it was a good idea to come to her school? He ducked out of the mob of boisterous students before they could get too interested in him and snuck round the side of the building, hiding just out of sight of the parking lot.

A familiar voice floated out through the open window he was standing underneath and he didn't need to crane his neck to look in to recognise the voice of the red-head he had come to see. She sounded as indignant as ever and he inhaled deeply, recognising that same heady mix of her perfume and Stiles' medications from the other night. Of course they were together again. He tried to stifle the pang of jealousy he felt at the thought of them alone in some abandoned classroom together. Hell, he didn't even know who he was jealous of at this point. He was officially losing it.

Just like the other night, he was eavesdropping and just like the other night, he didn't pay attention until he heard his name mentioned.

"Why is there a rumour going round that you're dating Derek Hale?"

Excellent. He wished he could thank Stiles for asking the exact question he had come here to ask. He could get his answer here and now without ever having to talk to her. He listened as she explained she had been covering for Stiles and felt a sudden rush of pride for the girl. He had thought her selfish and shallow, and he was surprised she would put her reputation on the line to cover for a friend. He nearly gasped when he heard Stiles use almost the exact same point about losing her reputation that he had just been thinking about. He never thought he'd be on the same wavelength as the boy who talked a mile a minute but never really said anything. With a sudden moment of clarity, he understood more or less why she had said what she'd said. Lydia really must be desperate if she thought an association with a man like him could boost her reputation.

Once again, he realised he was eavesdropping on the same pair again. This was just getting creepy now, and he turned to leave. He had his answer as to why she had said what she'd said and although he didn't quite fully understand it, he'd accept it and just wait for it to go away. He had only taken a couple of steps when he heard it.

"As a slut?! Because that's what people are saying, Lydia! You think that's better than being a nutjob?!"

He hadn't needed his werewolf hearing for that, since Stiles had practically shouted the words at her. He froze where he was, shocked that the boy would say something so hurtful. Unsure of what to do, he stayed rooted on the spot, continuing to listen as he heard the now horribly familiar sound of Lydia Martin having a breakdown. Tiny sobs and sniffles filled his over sensitive ears and, not for the first time, he wished he could turn his senses off. The sounds were too loud in his ears and they reminded him painfully of the sounds he had heard in the forest. That had been different though - She'd been alone. There had been no-one to see her cry and she'd had the magic excuse of alcohol to excuse her tears. He heard the door clatter open and the sound of heels clicking down the hall, heading straight for the crowds of unruly students still milling around theparking lot. The sound of the door banging open made him jump and the general chatter from the car park fell to an eerie hush.

He should do something. But what? What could he do? He prayed silently to a God he didn't believe in that Stiles would step up and run after her and somehow make it all better, but his prayers went unanswered as he heard a chair scraping in the classroom as Stiles sat down, oblivious to the drama outside. Lydia took a few slow, uncertain steps, and he heard her sniffle quietly. This wasn't his problem, he tried to tell himself. It's just gossip - Teenage girls cry all the time. They'd all forget about it within a day or two. He began very slowly to back into the undergrowth that grew round the side of the school when he heard it, a whisper echoing through the silence.

"Crying again? Fucking weirdo. I bet she'd made him up." He didn't have to wonder who the 'he' in that was. He knew it was him.

His mind was made up and he was striding out into the crowd before he really knew what he was doing. The crowd parted in front of him like he was a rock star. Derek had just enough ego to feel strangely proud of the effect he had on the group. Envy, lust, fear and intrigue mingled with the usual mix of cheap cologne, hormones and junk food as they all stumbled back to get out of his way.

The final people between him and Lydia moved and he finally saw her. He kept his expression neutral as he took her in. She looked like a beautiful disaster, her shoulders hunched forward, her hair a mess from nervously running her hands through it. Her face was the real issue though - Dark tracks of mascara marring her pale skin, salty tears still lingering on her cheeks. She must have no idea how she looked, because Lydia Martin would never been seen with her makeup less than perfect. She stared at him with a vacant expression and he smelt a hint of fear rolling off her. He hated that she was afraid of him, even if it was only a hint of a feeling as confusion took over.

He smiled at her broadly, hoping she'd understand what he was doing. She just carried on staring right back at him with those big, watery eyes.

"Hey babe," he purred.

Coming to stop right in front of her, he didn't let himself think as he reached down to take her face in his hands and kissed her. She responded immediately, which he hadn't expected, but he used the moment to do what he had intended - He brought his thumbs up and wiped her cheeks hard. To anyone who was looking, it would look like a simple caress between lovers, but as he pulled away, a mere second after the kiss had begun, his thumbs were grey with the makeup he had managed to wipe off her. She looked much more like herself, albeit a very confused version of herself. She stared at him, her mouth hanging open in shock and he leaned in a kissed her cheek very gently.

"Come on," he whispered, urgently, shooting her a look telling her to just go along with it. He wasn't sure if she understood or if she was just in shock, but she took his outstretched hand and let him lead her to the car regardless. It wasn't till they were safely behind the tinted glass of his car that he let out a relieved breath and finally chanced a glance at her to see her do the same.

Her eyes met his and she grinned at him, shakily.

"Hey _babe_," she mimicked, snorting at him.

He rolled his eyes, suppressing a smile and pulled away from the school, leaving the group of stunned teens in their wake.

* * *

**Whoa! Long chapter, right? Feel like I addressed quite alot though, which I like. **

**I had like, a bunch of reviews for my last update (Well, 4... but that's alot for me to get in like, a day!) and I just wanna thank y'all for your continuing support throughout this story. It's not gonna be like, novel length but I have like, at least 4 chapter's worth of story left. Probably more but it's hard to tell at this point. So, yeah... Thanks for your reviews! I heart them!**

**Onto this chapter - Firstly, I really want Derek to be like this with Erica and Isaac! Like, the father figure they never had. I totally think Derek would have funded Erica's slutty makeover and I really wanna think he'd hang out with Isaac when he was feeling bummed. So, yeah. Enjoy daddy!Derek because, like ALL Dereks, I love him!**

**Also, I know that Peter's always like, a massive douche when I write him. I don't mean for it to happen cause I actually love him - He just makes a really good antagonist for Derek. Sorry if he seems a little too dark and a bit OOC. Call it artistic license. **

**Oooh. And I've sort of created a more organised set of wolf laws in this story. I hate to say it, but it's a little more Twilight than Teen Wolf - I decided that they have a code that says they have to protect humans and that being banished is like A HUGE DEAL, and that's why Peter's so bummed about it. I hope that came across. **

**Anyhoo, carry on reviewing, my lovelies. I read them all. I respond to them all. I love them all. Fact.**

**xxx **


	8. Ice Cream

_Her eyes met his and she grinned at him, shakily._

_"Hey babe," she mimicked, snorting at him._

_He rolled his eyes, suppressing a smile and pulled away from the school, leaving the group of stunned teens in their wake._

The silence stretched on between them as they drove on. Lydia didn't ask where they were going. She didn't say anything. She wasn't sure she could.

Daring to glance at Derek, she caught him looking at her out of the corner of his eye and they both looked away, embarrassed. Lydia breathed a soft chuckle, her cheeks reddening. His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel hard.

"So..." Derek began, at the same time that Lydia breathed a soft "Um..."

They laughed softly again, the awkwardness levels through the roof.

"Nice car," Lydia started, patting the leather seat she was sitting on.

"You've been in it before," Derek pointed out. Lydia gulped and it sounded too loud in the quiet of the car. "But I'm guessing it looks different from a reclining position on the back seat."

Derek meant for his words to come out teasing and playful, but he couldn't keep the hard edge from creeping into his voice. Lydia glanced at him, confused. She didn't need werewolf senses to hear the jealousy in his voice. His eyes were fixed on the road, but he could feel her eyes on him, staring at him curiously.

"Yeah... I guess it does." Her voice was small now, and she was staring down at her hands. Maybe he was still angry about that night?

Sighing, he was about to speak again, to apologise for bringing it up, but she spoke before he could.

"Thanks... for that," she gestured back towards the school. "Whatever that was." Their eyes met again and they both knew their minds had drifted back to the moment when their lips had crushed together.

"Why did you-" He started.

"How did you-" She started. He nodded for her to continue.

"How did you know?" He didn't need to ask what she was talking about. She was asking about how he had heard about her extraordinary lie.

"Isaac." He didn't offer anything more, and Lydia didn't want to ask. If Isaac knew then everyone must have known. She suddenly realised she had been blaming the wrong people for spreading the rumours about her. It wasn't her idiotic little friends after all. Or, at least, it wasn't only them.

"Why did you tell people we were... together?"

"I just couldn't resist you," she deadpanned, immediately regretting it when Derek looked panic stricken. She forgot she was trying to joke with a humour-impaired wolf.

"Erica," she quickly added. "Erica told everyone you had my shoes. I had to think fast.."

"And this was all you could come up with?"

He hadn't looked at her in a long time, but she couldn't stop staring at him. She knew he must be able to feel her eyes on him, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from his face, trying to work out whether he was joking, or really angry at her.

"What can I say? I lack imagination." He chuckled at her and she breathed a sigh of relief.

They settled back into silence. There was more that both of them wanted to ask, but they didn't know how to say it, so they remained in silence for the rest of the journey.

"Want me to take you home?" He piped up suddenly. She assumed that he was taking her there anyway, but she suddenly realised that she didn't really want to go home.

She shook her head at him, her eyes wide and innocent. He was silent for a moment.

"Want to go get ice cream?"

Lydia rolled her eyes, the old, confident, haughty Lydia reappearing for a moment. "Ice cream? What am I? Eight years old?"

Derek said nothing, just tightened his jaw and Lydia regretted her words instantly. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had ice cream. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had something other than diet coke and salad actually. The more she thought about it, the more she craved ice cream.

"I want rocky road," she announced.

Derek smirked, already pulling in to the mall parking lot, knowing she was going to change her mind.

They walked into the mall in silence, Lydia paling as she immediately recognised a number of kids from her school milling around. There wasn't much to do in Beacon Hills so she shouldn't have been surprised to see people she knew here. She felt their eyes on them as they walked awkwardly together. He kept close to her, not touching her, but close enough that it was clear to everyone they were here together. She ignored the stares and turned her attention to Derek.

"Baskin Robbins is over in the north bit-" He cut her off.

"I know."

Lydia's lips quirked upwards in a disbelieving smile.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just... didn't have you down as an ice cream fan."

He looked at her in in fake shock.

"Who doesn't like ice cream?!" They smiled at each other, and bumped shoulders playfully, looking every part the cute couple to any casual onlookers.

He gruffly insisted on paying for both ice creams, and Lydia felt too awkward to argue about it. They swung between playful flirting and awkward silence and Lydia couldn't help but think how incredibly odd her day had been. Last week she'd never even talked to this man and now they were strolling around the mall, licking ice cream cones, flirting openly, pretending they didn't notice her classmates staring at them. Lydia could feel Derek staring at her as her tongue darted out to lick a glob of ice cream that was dripping down the side of the cone. Catching him looking, he quickly averted his gaze, clearing his throat uncomfortably. Lydia opened her mouth to make some dirty comment when a familiar voice rang out from behind her.

"Lydia? Lydia!" She whirled round as someone shouted her name through the crowds of shoppers. Tiffany was making her way through the throng, dragging a bored looking lacrosse player who's name Lydia couldn't remember with her.

"Oh my god, Lydia! Hi!" Tiffany enthused, throwing her arms around Lydia and casting an appraising look over Derek. She felt Derek tense beside her. Rescuing her from an angry mob was one thing, but meeting Tiffany was something else all together. She couldn't expect him to keep up the lie now, and honestly, she wasn't sure if he could. Sure, he could flash a nice smile when he had to, but she doubted his acting abilities would be a match for Tiffany's scrutiny. Tiffany screwed up her heavily made up face in frustration when the lacrosse player loaded down with bags didn't immediately arrive at her side.

"Greenberg! What is taking so long?" She tapped her high heel impatiently as the boy finally caught up with her, dragging along what looked like half the mall.

"Babe! I'm not exactly travelling light here!" He snapped, exasperated, shaking the handfuls of bags he's holding. Tiffany just rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Lydia, shaking her blond curls out of her face.

Neither Lydia nor Derek had said a word yet, but Lydia's brain finally caught up with her and she flashed them both a big, fake smile.

"Hey guys!" Lydia finally said all stood looking at each other for a moment, waiting for someone to speak. Of course it was Tiffany who piped up first.

"So, this must be Derek?" She dragged his name out, in a singsongy voice, sweeping her gaze up and down his impressive body.

Lydia stiffened. This was too much. She couldn't ask Derek to keep lying for her. She wasn't even sure why they were still lying now. The whole thing was just completely out of hand and she was about to come clean with everyone, when she felt Derek shift ever so slightly closer towards her. She was shocked and stared up at him to find that beaming smile back on his face.

"The infamous Derek Hale," he said scandalously, leaning in and winking at Tiffany, tearing a ridiculous giggle from the girl. Greenberg glared at him.

"Dude... Nice ice cream. Manly." Derek shot him a quick glare and Lydia laughed, sounding shrill and tense even to her own ears.

"Well, who doesn't like ice cream?!" She quoted Derek from earlier and the two girls giggled. Derek and Greenberg were still locked in some kind of absurd macho staring contest. Derek somehow managed to make taking a bite of his ice cream cone look like a menacing act, and didn't break eye contact.

"See babe? I told you he was real," Greenberg blurted out, turning to Tiffany, who chuckled nervously. Derek was liking this guy less and less.

"I never said he wasn't real," Tiffany said through fake laughter, not-too-subtly nudging Greenberg in the ribs.

Lydia's smile was frozen in place and Derek was out of his depth. It had been too long since he'd been in high school and he'd forgotten about the strange politics of teen popularity.

"Oh, I'm real alright," he replied, meaninglessly. All he wanted was to punch this guy in the face, but that would solve nothing. He desperately wanted to take this guy down a peg or two, but this wasn't his world and he didn't know what to say. He had a sudden moment of clarity. The older, dangerous boyfriend thing clearly wasn't particularly impressive, but being older had one advantage over this seventeen year old douche. He played his trump card.

"Well, we'd love to stay and chat," he said, casually draping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him. "But my Amex is burning a hole in my pocket." He turned his attention to Lydia and she smiled sweetly at him. Their lips were mere inches apart and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Derek wondered if the act was just for their audience. He hoped not.

"Where'd ya wanna go next, Lyd?"

"Um..." She bit her lip, deep in thought for a moment. "I hear the new Prada line is in."

He surprised her by, leaning down and planting a quick kiss on her lips, before turning and smiling graciously at the other two.

"Then Prada it is. Tiffany," He winked at the girl, who looked green with envy. "Greenberg." He nodded curtly at the boy, who looked like he wanted to kill him. "Excuse us. Prada awaits."

"Bye guys," Lydia said, automatically, as Derek gently guided her away, his arm still draped round her shoulders.

"You'd look amazing in that red one," Derek added loudly, as they headed into the store, knowing that Tiffany and Greenberg were still well within ear shot.

Derek and Lydia were so wrapped up in their little charade, they didn't even notice the third pair of eyes on them as they strolled through the rails. Long after Tiffany and Greenberg wandered away, the third pair of eyes continued to watch them, clouded over with jealousy, hurt and betrayal.

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**Ooooh! Who could it be? I'm sure you can guess, you clever people!**

**So, I know this is a short chapter, but I'm just enjoying the adorbs right now. (Yeah, I stole that from the Lizzie Bennet Diaries on youtube. It's SO good!). Yes, it's cheesy that they went and got ice cream, but all I can think about right now is Derek turning up and taking me out for ice cream! Also, Charming!Derek is just ****_TOO_**** cute! All I want from season 3 is for Derek have to act all charming and sexy again for some reason. Well, maybe not ****_all_**** I want, but it's up there. :)**

**I have the worse man-flu right now (Yes, I get man flu... Or "only child flu" which is pretty much the same thing) so I had to spend my only day off this week in bed, which sucks, but it meant I had loads of time to write. I actually have the next chapter pretty much done aswell, and I even started the one after. I'm trying to space them out a bit though cause I know not everyone checks their updates every day and I don't wanna bombard people with a million chapters at once.**

**Anyhoo, enjoy the adorbs! And thanks again for all your reviews! Keep em coming! I genuinely love them!**

**xxx**


	9. Spring Formal

A week had passed since Lydia had seen Derek. After profusely thanking him for helping her perpetrate their little charade at the mall, Lydia had suggested they just let the lie fizzle out naturally and he had agreed, before dropping her home and bidding her goodbye. That had been exactly 7 days ago and Lydia was ashamed to admit she was still scanning the parking lot for him everyday after school. Despite the awkwardness, she had enjoyed being his pretend girlfriend for the day - It was refreshing to spend time with someone who didn't feel the need to fill every silence with inane chatter, something her friends knew nothing about. They had spent the last few days swamping her with questions and, as much as she had wanted to throw herself into the fantasy and come up with the perfect answers to their probing questions, she couldn't let herself get too wrapped up in it all. She lowered her eyes and spoke shyly through her lashes about how Derek liked his privacy and she didn't really want to talk about it.

Stiles had cornered her the day after their fight and tried to apologise. He had sounded sincere and had reached out to tenderly touch her hand as he had assured her that he would never speak to her like that again, but she still kept her face stony and avoided his sad, sincere brown eyes. She wanted to forgive him. She really did. She wanted to reassure him that she knew he never meant to hurt her and that they were still friends, but she was stubborn, and couldn't quite bring herself to say any of it.

A short, clipped "It's OK" was all she had offered him before flouncing away, and he hadn't tried to speak to her again. In fact, all of her old friends seemed to have given up on her now.

Allison had bumped into her by the lockers and the two girls had shared an awkward look before Allison piped up.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she said sadly, before nodding at Lydia and walking away. Allison hadn't looked at her since.

Lydia should have been happy. This was exactly what she wanted. She was once again at the top of the social pyramid, cemented by news spreading of her "gorgeous boyfriend taking her on a crazy shopping spree", and she hadn't even thought the word "werewolf" for almost a week. Still, she couldn't stop the loneliness creeping in, especially when her friends were chattering excitedly about the upcoming Spring formal. Lydia had almost forgotten, but she couldn't escape the fact that the week had been spent discussing the finer points of the perfect updo and white limos vs. black limos had been a particularly scintillating half hour of their young lives. She had bought two tickets pretty much on autopilot, because she couldn't be seen to be shunning the event, but was already planning on ditching and coming up with some romantic story about how Derek had planned a night in for them. She hated herself for wishing it was the truth, as she reeled off the details of an imaginary outfit that she obviously hadn't even bought. The girls seemed to buy it and she wearily added yet another lie to the web she had created. She wasn't sure where the lies ended anymore.

She had briefly flirted with the idea of actually asking Derek to take her to the dance. He hadn't seemed to mind playing the part of her boyfriend at the mall, in fact, she secretly thought he'd quite enjoyed it, but spending the whole night having to dress up and escort her around a dimly lit gym full of sweaty teens was probably going to be a step too far. He'd already done enough for her. Too much, almost, as Tiffany was now devoting her time to trying to set up a double date for the four of them. Lydia smiled at the thought of it. Derek and Greenberg would probably come to blows before they'd even been served their starters._ He's not actually your boyfriend_, she reminded herself. _There isn't going to be a double date_. Just like he wasn't taking her to the dance. Lydia sighed heavily, as she headed up the drive to her house. Lydia loved dances, and having to plan the whole thing, knowing she wouldn't be going was fairly crushing. She had bid her friends goodbye just minutes before, with promises of seeing them later that night for the "night of their lives." She ran her hand through her hair wearily as she started up the steps to her porch, stopping when she noticed the large, neatly wrapped gift box sitting on her door step. She glanced around, but she was alone and quickly grabbed the box, heading into her house.

Lydia shouted a quick hello to her mom before retreating to the safety of her room to open the box. She assumed it was for her, but didn't want to get her hopes up in front of her mother. Settling down on her bed, she ran her hands over the expensive purple paper that encased the lid, running the lavender ribbon through her fingers. It was almost too pretty to open, Lydia thought to herself. Ignoring that, she loosened the bow that held it together and carefully lifted the lid off, rummaging through the layers of lilac tissue paper to reveal a pool of deep red satin. Scooping it up out of the box, Lydia gasped when she realised it was the dress that she and Derek had looked at together last week at the mall. Derek had loudly proclaimed she'd look good in it, she'd assumed just for the benefit of their audience, but perhaps he had really meant it. The girly girl within took over, and she sprinted to her mirror, holding it in front of herself and doing a silly little twirl. The soft material fanned out around her as she went and she smiled to herself in the mirror. Had he bought this for her? He must have done? This was too much. She hadn't checked the price tag, but they were in Prada for God's sake! She didn't have to check to know that it was alot of money. She couldn't accept this. It was too much. Her mind was running a mile a minute as she ran her hands over the cool satin as she held it up against her.

Checking back in the box, she noticed a note at the bottom. It was written in a neat, curling cursive that Lydia never would have guessed was Derek's handwriting. She giggled. She would definitely have to call him out on his frankly girly handwriting when she saw him.

_Lydia._

_Meet me at the house at eight._

_Wear this._

She turned the note over in her hands. That was all it said. How cryptic. Apparently it wasn't just during conversation that Derek Hale was a man of few words. He was even socially awkward on paper.

She wondered where they'd be going, considering with a little thrill that perhaps he'd be escorting her to the dance after all. The dress seemed much too nice to be shown off in a school hall, but she couldn't imagine why else he would have sent it to her. Lydia couldn't stop grinning to herself as she set about getting ready, feeling like a fairy godmother had just told her that she shall go to the ball.

Hours of primping and preening later, Lydia once again stood in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection. She had been right - The dress was far too nice to be worn to a school dance, but she didn't care. It was even more beautiful on, the satin gathered at the front and falling just so to drape over her every curve. The plunging neckline dipped almost dangerously low, revealing ample cleavage and Lydia was glad she felt comfortable not wearing a bra cause there would have been no way to wear one with this dress. Her highest heels adorned her feet, strappy silver creations that were necessary to stop herself from tripping over the floor-length hemline, and even then, she was still having to gather it slightly as she walked. She didn't mind too much though. She was used to dresses being too long on her 5'3" frame and she felt like a princess when she stooped the gather the blood red satin in her hand. She had kept her hair simple, curled, with some tendrils randomly pinned back, and her makeup fairly neutral, apart from the fiery red lipstick she had decided on to match her dress.

Checking the time, she decided she had better set out, knowing her mother would want to inevitably take pictures of her before she left. She had been right of course, and there was an awkward twenty minutes of having to pose on the stairs with a big smile on her face. Her mother swung between tearfully telling Lydia how beautiful she looked and asking lots of difficult questions about why Derek wasn't picking her up from the house and when exactly she'd be home.

"There's a party afterwards at Tiffany's and we're all staying there, so I'll see you tomorrow." Lydia lied smoothly. She wasn't even sure why she said it. There WAS a party, of course. There was always a party, but she doubted she'd be attending. She still wasn't 100% sure she was even going to the dance. She assumed she was, but the whole thing was all very cryptic. The side of her that watched too many teen romances was running away with her, envisioning rooms full of candles and flowers and all sorts of romantic crap. She was still confused about what they were actually doing. Was this all for show? One last favour, perhaps with a big, public break up so he could be out of it forever? Her stomach dropped at the thought of it. What if that's all it was, and she was letting herself get all excited over yet another lie? Or maybe he was actually taking her out on a date? Perhaps she wasn't the only one who had enjoyed their afternoon together. There had been moments when she'd forgotten that they were supposed to be acting, forgotten that they were being watched and just relaxed into his company, and she felt butterflies begin to settle in her stomach when she considered that maybe he'd felt the same. Trying not to overthink it, she kissed her mother goodbye, ignoring her blunt comment about making sure they "used protection" and heading out to her car.

As she fumbled for her keys, she heard tyres screech behind her and turned to see Stiles' beat up jeep stopped by the side of the road. Stiles was looking at her in shock through the windscreen and Lydia was confused for a moment before remembering the dress. She smirked, feeling smug. It really was a showstopper. She'd only been out of the house for 30 seconds and she'd already nearly caused a car crash. It was a good feeling.

Her eyes darted over to the passenger seat of that horrendous little jeep. Erica was sitting there, looking as beautiful and dangerous as ever, her eyes narrowed at Lydia. Her hair was swept up into a messy updo, with a few tendrils artfully escaping and, though Lydia couldn't see much of her dress, she could tell there wasn't alot of it.

Stiles leaned out of the window, trying for casual and failing miserably.

"Hey Lydia!" He called out. "Looking good."

Understatement. Lydia decided to let it go and smiled at him, nodding awkwardly.

Erica suddenly leaned across Stiles, poking her head out of the window, threatening to spill out of the scraps of black lace that were apparently a dress.

"Hi!" She purred, plastering a fake smile on her dark plum lips.

Lydia crossed her arms over her chest and flashed Erica a tight smile.

"Hi Erica," she said, but directed the words at Stiles, shooting him a pointed look.

"Oh..." Stiles blustered for a moment. "Yeah... Well, me and Erica are just going as friends." He nodded sincerely, the effect ruined when Erica was leaning over him, her ample bosom bobbing inches in front of his face. She nodded in agreement, her eyes wide with mock innocence.

"Yeah. Just_ friends_," she said pointedly.

Lydia wasn't jealous. Or at least she shouldn't be jealous. But all she could think about was blurting out that her and Stiles had made out recently, wiping the smug smile off Erica's face. She didn't though, of course, not even when Erica let her hand slide off the edge of the window, down out of sight. Stiles inhaled sharply and Lydia knew that Erica must be holding herself up with a casual hand on his thigh. The thought made her grind her teeth together and she wasn't sure why. She had Derek now. Or did she? Either way, she was wearing a glorious dress paid for by the hottest guy in Beacon Hills and she _definitely_ didn't care what Erica's hand was doing just out of her sight.

"It's really none of my business. You can go with who you want." She instantly regretted the words, realising how bitter she sounded. Erica smiled knowingly, but Stiles' face fell, oblivious to the tension. Lydia snapped back to her confident self and starting firking around in her bag for her keys.

"Anyway, I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm meeting Derek so..." She trailed off, glancing up to see them both staring at her, startled. She'd thought that Erica might have had some idea that they were meeting tonight. Derek really did play his cards close to his chest.

"But you guys have fun tonight!" She cooed at them, flashing a syrupy sweet smile and getting into her car without another word.

She waited until she saw the car pull away in her rearview mirror before pulling out and heading to Derek's. She tried not to think about Stiles and Erica at the dance together, or, worse at Tiffany's crazy afterparty. She wasn't even sure why she cared - Stiles had been vile to her and even if he hadn't been, he was still a loser, not worth the time of the queen of Beacon Hills High School. _Then why did you kiss him... Twice?_ The little voice in her head was back. She ignored it, pushing it from her mind and focusing on the evening ahead.

The butterflies churning in her stomach got livelier and livelier, the closer she got to the old Hale house. The house looked as forboding as ever, especially in the gloom of the evening, lit only by the thin sliver of moon in the sky. Lydia gulped as she stepped onto the creaking porch. As excited as she was to see Derek, the house had always made her feel uneasy and tonight was no different, and her hand shook slightly as she knocked lightly on the door.

While she waited for him to answer, she took out a tiny mirror compact and checked her reflection one last time. She smiled at her reflection, content that she looked perfect, before rapping on the door, this time a little harder. The door creaked open a crack and Lydia poked her head inside the door, taking a look into the darkness inside.

"Hello?" She called out timidly, pushing the door open a little more. "Derek?" She shouted out a little louder into the dusty house. She was met by nothing but silence. Stepping inside, she glanced around uneasily, before tentatively venturing into the shadowy interior. Glass and ash crunched under her feet and Lydia hurriedly scooped up her dress, and began delicately picking her way through the little pile of debris, crossing into what used to be the living room. The room was a little clearer than the hallway, and she could make out take-out boxes and empty bottles all over the floor. It was clear someone had been living here. It made her heart hurt to think of Derek living here. She'd never really thought about where he lived, but she'd never considered him living here, in the dust and the memories of his family. He always seemed too clean and tidy to be living in this sort of squalor. She reached out with a tiny silver heel to kick at an empty whiskey bottle, frowning as she did so. A tiny noise from somewhere in the house had her whirling round, startled.

"Hello?" She shouted out again, her voice coming out shrill and scared. The creepy house was getting the better of her and she was beginning to wonder why Derek had wanted to meet her here. In fact, why HAD Derek wanted to meet her here? It seemed like a strange choice. A sudden panic overtook her, the vague feeling of uneasiness growing into something more. Something felt very wrong here, and Lydia started to back very slowly towards the door, shivering against the chill in the house.

Suddenly a figure stepped into the doorway, silhouetted by the faint moonlight filtering in.

"Derek?" Lydia felt a sigh of relief rush through her. She felt like a silly little girl, letting a creepy house get the better of her.

He took a step closer and Lydia's blood ran cold as she stared into the glowing eyes of the man she most feared. Gleaming amber orbs met her scared green eyes and she took a deep breath, hoping she was just having another one of her nightmares.

"Wrong wolf, sweetheart."

* * *

***dramatic music* Duh duh duuuuh! I tried soooo hard to make y'all think it was Stiles was watching them! Did I actually fool anyone? I really hope I fooled some of you cause I really didn't want my little twist to be too obvious. Surely you didn't think Peter would just LET himself be banished without causing some havoc? If you guessed it had been Peter watching them, well done. Here. Have a cookie. **

**Couple of little notes: Firstly, Lydia's dress is one that Emily Thorne wore on Revenge. It's the one that she wears to Victoria and Conrad's disasterous re-wedding. She's wears ALOT of red dresses on that show, but if you google 'emily thorne red dress wedding', it's the one with the deep, plunging neckline. Just imagine in a slightly darker shade, more blood red. **

**And, I sorta took a guess as to what colour Peter's eyes would be when he's wolfed out. I know they were red when he was an alpha but he's not anymore and I couldn't find anything on google, so I just took a stab in the dark and went for amber. If anyone knows differently, feel free to let me know. **

**Also, without giving ****_too_**** much away, things are going to get very dark in the next chapter. Up until now, I haven't really been using the M Rating I gave this story, but I'll tell you now, the next chapter will be earning it's M Rating and perhaps not in the way you all expected. So, don't be bellyaching at me if you're like "whoa.. shit got cray!" cause I'm warning you now, shit... is gonna get cray! You are warned! **

**Anyhoo, hope you like this chapter. It's kinda another filler chapter, setting the scene for the storm that is a'coming! So... yeah. Remember to review! I heart them, and I kinda wanna hear what people think about this little twist and what's gonna happen and all that jazz. Sorry for THE LONGEST AUTHOR'S NOTE EVER! I just felt I had lots of little things to mention. Thanks for reading (both the story and this note).**

**xxx**


	10. Attack

**I'm pretty nervous about posting this, so I've decided to add this warning - This is dark. Very, very dark. This chapter has finally earned this fic's M Rating and contains some fairly graphic violence. If you think that's something that's going to bother you, please don't read it. I honestly don't want to upset anyone. Hopefully, you'll all see that it's important to the overall story.**

* * *

_He took a step closer and Lydia's blood ran cold as she stared into the glowing eyes of the man she most feared. Gleaming amber orbs met her scared green eyes and she took a deep breath,_

_hoping she was just having another one of her nightmares._

_"Wrong wolf, sweetheart."_

Lydia's breath caught in her throat and, for a second, time stood still. Peter's eyes freely roamed up and down her body, hungrily drinking her all in, causing Lydia to wrap her arms protectively around herself.

"I knew red would be your colour," he breathed, smiling at her, his elongated fangs flashing dangerously in the moonlight.

Lydia shivered at his words, this time nothing to do with the cold that seemed to settle on the house. Wrapping her arms even tighter around herself, she tried to fix a determined look on her face.

"Stay away from me." She meant to sound strong and hated herself when her voice came out shaking and shrill.

He laughed, the sound too loud for the small room, and Lydia flinched. Taking a step towards her, Peter tilted his head and regarded her calmly.

Lydia stood her ground for a moment, staring back at him with wide, fearful eyes.

"I mean it. Stay away from me," she whispered, taking a step back and feeling the cold wall against her back. Her eyes darted around the room, but he was between her and the only exit, and was advancing slowly towards her, like a predator hunting it's prey.

In a heartbeat, he closed the last few feet between them with an unnatural speed, suddenly standing so close that Lydia could smell the whiskey on his breath. He swayed towards her, and she screwed her face up and turned her head to the side. Trying to squirm away, she found his hands resting on either side of her head, barring her escape. He brought his hand up to trace gently down the side of her face, a long sharp claw tracing down to catch slightly on her lip.

She wanted to fight, wanted to bring her fists up and release all her anger, but her body wasn't obeying, and she stood still, frozen with fear. His hand continued it's journey down, his eyes hungrily following it's path as he stroked down the side of her neck. He came to rest his hand on her shoulder, his thumb resting ominously over her throat. His fingertips slipped under the strap of her dress and pushed it to the side, revealing her bare shoulder. Lydia tensed as he lowered his face to the pale skin he had unveiled, ready for the pain of a bite. She released her breath in a quiet sob as, instead, he pressed a soft kiss to the skin there.

"Oh Lydia," he sighed against her shoulder. "Why _him_? What does Derek have that I don't have?" He tipped his head back and smirked at her, his voice whiny like a child's. He was playing with her.

"A heart," she spat, before suddenly bringing her knee up and catching him squarely between his legs. He buckled, his werewolf strength failing him for a moment as pain overcame him and she took her chance to push at him with all her might. She might have got further if it wasn't for the damn dress. It billowed out behind her and he made a grab for it, pulling her back and launching himself at her. He landed on top of her heavily and the air rushed out of her lungs. They struggled with each other, his hands grabbing at her roughly, her hands flailing ineffectually at him. Her feet kicked out at him, trying to scramble away, but his hands dug into her hips and slid her back to him. She cried out as she felt the rough debris on the floor scratch into her back. She carried on fighting wildly, throwing punches that seem to do nothing to deter him as he pressed her down into the dirty floor, his full weight suffocating on top of her. His hand once again found her shoulder, pulling her dress to the side, and for the first time that night, she feared him as a man, not as a wolf. The fight seemed almost already won and Lydia feebly bucked her hips one last time, trying to throw him off her. She failed and stilled, breathing hard, salty tears flowing freely down her face.

"Please..." she breathed softly, sobbing quietly, and flexing the fingers that were now pinned down next to her head.

He smiled down at her, a smile that would have been warm, if not for the long fangs that were bared at her. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest and she knew he could hear it. She was transfixed by those fangs, sharp and deadly in the darkness. She knew she was immune to the bite. She couldn't turn. She would die. The wild look in his glowing eyes said that he was lost - The wolf inside was winning and without control, he would go too far and she would bleed to death, right here on the dusty floor. She didn't want to die. With a start, she realised she hadn't really been living - She had been wasting her life lying, spending time with people she couldn't stand, drifting through life like a ghost.

"We could have been so good together," he said, looking genuinely upset. With every ounce of concentration that was left in her aching body, she managed to contort her tear stained face into a small smile. She wanted to live.

"We still could be?" She whispered, trying her best to keep her eyes soft and open. She forced the bile back down her throat when he ground against her in response. He seemed to be buying it. His head dropped heavily against the shoulder he'd wrenched her dress off and she shuddered as she felt his breath against her flesh.

"Nice try," he muttered, before sinking his teeth deep into her pale shoulder. She screamed out in pain, her body convulsing as she felt him tear a chunk out of her, hot blood spilling onto the dusty floorboards. He pulled back to look at her, her blood smeared all over his grinning mouth before he moved back down her body, his hands stroking down her sides as he went. As he sat back on his heels, she realised this was her chance. His weight was no longer pinning her down and he was distracted, his fingertips digging into her hips. She tried to push herself up, but immediately flopped back down, knowing without looking that the bite in her shoulder was worse than she first thought. Pain shot through her body and she felt weak and dizzy.

She could do nothing but stare straight up at the charred ceiling, trying to keep her breathing even. She glanced down at Peter, who was crouching over her, his hands skimming down to the hem of her dress. His hands slid under the fabric and he pushed the red satin up to her hips, exposing her smooth legs to the cold night air. She tried to move to cover herself, feeling exposed to his darkened eyes, but her limbs felt like they were made of lead. Her breathing was laboured, each breath ripping a little whimper from her as she felt the blood continue to ooze from her shoulder.

Peter leaned down, his face close to the pale silken flesh of her thigh. She squeezed her eyes shut, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. She was going to die. She knew it now. Two faces flashed into her mind as she felt the beginnings of darkness tugging at her. Sharp teeth grazed against the inside of her thigh, and prayed that the blackness would consume her quickly. Her mind felt sluggish and she smiled to herself, warm brown eyes and intense red ones swimming into her vision, tearing her away from the reality of where she was.

Her eyes were closed when Peter's hot hands were suddenly gone, wrenched away from her still body. She was cold now. So cold. The room was filled with sound and movement but she was too cold and too tired to even open her eyes. The sounds of growling and snarling were echoing in her ears, and she thought she heard someone calling her name. The voice was frantic and familar, but he sounded so far away and she wanted to get back, come back to both of them. Warm, soft hands were at her throat, feeling for a pulse. _You're too late_, she thought. At least she was dying in the beautiful dress, she thought idly to herself, before blacking out.

* * *

**The End.**

**BAZINGA! Ha! Can you imagine?! Jeez. That'd be evil.**

**No, I jest. Obviously there's more to come. So... you ****_were_**** warned about all the violence. Hope it hasn't put anyone off. It's over now. We got through it... together. I'm proud of all of us. Maybe you'll be rewarded with a little somethin' somethin' in the next chapter ;)**

**Soooo.. yeah, as always, I love reviews! I'm slightly nervous that all the reviews are just gonna be "WHAT DID YOU DO TO LYDIA?!" and similar, but, even if that's the case, I love the idea of people taking the time out of their day to tell me what they're thinking about this fic, so lay it on me, guys. Comments about the writing would be great, but even if you just wanna yell at me for being mean to little Lydia, that's ok too. :)**

**xxx**


	11. Hospital

Lydia awoke to the sounds of bird chirping. She didn't need to open her eyes to know that she back in her own bed, and that the sunlight of an early summer's morning was streaming in through her window. She stretched sleepily, suddenly aware of a warm, soft weight against her stomach. Her hand floated down to rest on the head that was dozing there, confused when her fingers found the soft velvet of a buzzcut, instead of the thick locks she'd expected. Her eyes flew open to see Stiles grinning up at her, a sleepy smile on his face.

"Mornin'," he groaned.

Lydia could only stare back in shock, as he pressed a kiss to her belly and clambered off her sleigh bed. She averted her eyes when she saw he was only in his boxers, but realised she had no need for modesty when she looked down at herself and realised she was wearing one of his Green Lantern t shirts and nothing else.

Stiles moved to her dresser and started rooting through the drawers, just as the door opened and Derek strolled in, wearing only a towel round his hips. Lydia couldn't help but stare at the way the last few drops of water glistened as they crossed the hard planes of body. He smiled at her and then, without a second thought, leaned in to press a brief kiss to Stiles' lips. Lydia gasped, but they paid her no attention, and pulled apart with a smile, before carrying on what they were doing.

Derek continued over to her and flopped down on the bed, resting his head on the same spot where Stiles' had been only moments earlier. He smiled up at her, and with a start, she realised the Green Lantern t shirt was gone, replaced with one of Derek's white muscle vests. She should find that more unusual than she did, but her brilliant mind didn't seem to be working this morning. His hand fisted in the fabric as he dragged his face up her body, dipping to kiss the valley between her breasts, before leaning in and planting a soft kiss on her lips. Lydia couldn't respond, couldn't do anything but stare at him in confusion and let him kiss her.

She felt the bed shift as Stiles clambered back onto the bed, kneeling next to them.

"Don't hog her," he chastised gently, pushing Derek away and leaning forward to kiss Lydia. She continued to lay perfectly still, trying to work out what was going on. Was she dead? Was this heaven? She cast her mind back, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to remember. A dark house flashed into her memories, but the thought was gone as soon as it had arrived. The feel of a soft wet mouth licking a trail of kisses down her neck brought her back to... wherever the hell she was and she finally reacted, tilting her head slightly to give Stiles better access to her throat. While Stiles lavished attention to her collarbone, Derek had slunk back down her body, and came to rest above her thigh, his hand soothingly stroking the soft skin he found there. She should be embarrassed. This should be strange, or frightening, but she closed her eyes and let her head roll back as Derek pushed her leg to the side a little and lowered his mouth to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

Lydia had finally relaxed into it, letting her eyes flutter close when, without warning, two sets of teeth went sinking into her flesh, ripping a cry from her. Her eyes flew open to see Stiles with his teeth firmly clamped around her shoulder, and Derek with his teeth buried in the flesh of her thigh, blood seeping from both wounds. Tears sprang to her eyes and she squeezed them shut, trying to block out what was happening.

When she opened them again, the two men were gone, replaced with Peter, looming over her again, his face streaked with her blood. Looking down at herself, her shirt was once again gone, this time replaced with her beautiful red satin dress, torn and covered in dirt and ash.

"I knew red would be your colour," he whispered, but it wasn't Peter's voice that sprung forth - It was Derek's powerful voice coming from Peter.

He leaned in close and spoke again, this time coming out as Stiles' distinctive tone.

"Now you're mine," he said, and sank his teeth into her again, as Lydia screamed out.

Suddenly, she was not in her room anymore, but a stark white hospital ward. People in blue scrubs rushed over to her as she thrashed against the tight sheets wrapped around her.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" She screamed, ignoring the pain that ripped through her whole body as she flailed wildly.

She fought tooth and nail against the group of people surrounding her, seeing Peter in all their faces. Soothing hands tried to hold her down, but they felt like claws digging into her and she just struggled harder against them. Voices floated in and out of her consciousness, but they all sounded like Peter and she screamed, attempting to drown out the sounds.

_"Lydia? Lydia? I need you to calm down for me, ok?"_

_"Get a doctor."_

_"Lydia, honey. It's me. You have to calm down. They're here to help."_

_"Get me 50ccs of thorazine!"_

A wave of warmth swept through Lydia's body and she felt her limbs grow heavier. The voices continued but they sounded so far away now. She idly wondered if she would wake up with Stiles and Derek again, warm and safe in her bed. She hoped so. Her hand flopped off the edge of the bed as the darkness consumed her again.

The next time Lydia woke, she knew exactly where she was. She didn't need to open her eyes to know she was still in the bland white hospital room. Her whole body ached, and her throat felt raw as she opened her mouth to speak. Before she could get any words out, she realised she wasn't alone in the room. A tiny movement in the corner of the room had her whole body stiffen painfully.

"Go home, boys. I'll call you if there's any change." Lydia recognised the voice of Scott's mom, her tone low and soothing. Lydia kept her eyes squeezed shut and tried to keep her breathing even.

"No... We'll stay." Her breath caught in her throat as she recognised the gruff tones of Derek's voice. He sounded... different, his voice coming out almost slurred.

"Stiles," Melissa's tone was slightly louder now, more commanding. Lydia recognised a 'mom voice' when she heard one. "I need you to drive Derek home."

Stiles started to argue, his words tumbling over each other. "But.. we.. Lydia-"

"Enough! Look, people are going to start asking questions soon. I think it's best that you're not here when they do."

"I'm gonna stay," Derek whispered, still sounding out of it.

There were a few moments of silence, while Melissa and Stiles presumably shared a look between them. When Melissa spoke again, her voice was once again soft and even, but insistent.

"Stiles. Listen to me. I know Lydia is your friend," A beat passed before she continued. "But Derek's your friend too. And right now, I need you to drive him home. I can't have him here like this."

Lydia noticed that no-one in the room disputed that Derek and Stiles were friends. She supposed they were. No-one was sure when it had happened, but they were definitely friends now. A sudden shuffling in the room brought her back to reality. Trying to keep as still as possible, she chanced opening her eyes for a split second to see what was going on. Lydia could just make out Stiles and Melissa on either side of a slumped Derek, pulling him out of the chair in the corner of the room, before she let her eyes flicker shut again.

"No," Derek whispered. "Stop. I'm... I'm fine." He sounded drunk. Was he drunk? Had he been so distraught about her being in hospital that he'd gone out and gotten drunk? Should she be flattered? She wasn't.

Stiles piped up this time, cutting Melissa off as she started to disagree.

"No Derek. No you're not." Stiles' voice was strained, and Lydia pictured him with Derek's arm round his shoulder, holding his weight up as they made their way across the room.

"I have to stay with her. I have to protect her," Derek mumbled.

"You've given her enough, Derek. Go home." Melissa said warmly. Lydia couldn't help but like this woman, despite never really talking to her.

"Come on, buddy. Let's get you home." The voices retreated down the hall, and Lydia only had a moment to wonder what exactly was wrong with Derek before she drifted back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

**Little bit of smut there, as a reward for not yelling at me for nearly killing Lydia. Sometimes you just gotta do what ya gotta do!**

**The response to the last chapter was soooooo awesome! You're all so lovely! I loved reading all your reviews, so thank you for that!**

**I'm kinda crediting AvaRosier for the idea I'm planting about Derek. Her review really got me thinking about something, so I've changed where I was going slightly to incorporate a new little idea. Ooh! Are you all intrigued?**

**Anyhoo, keep the reviews coming! Theories, ideas and general review-eyness make me happy and keep me inspired.**

**xxx**


	12. Drugged

The next day was a drug induced blur. Lydia's usually brilliant mind struggled to make sense of time. She thought it had been a day, but maybe it had been a week, maybe it had just been a couple of hours? Time meant nothing, since every time she woke up, she felt like she fell back to sleep almost straight away.

Her limbs felt like they were made of lead, and every time she tried to open her eyes, the world looked blurred and distorted. Through the haze that settled on her mind, she knew they were keeping her drugged due to her earlier outburst. She wanted to speak, to tell them she felt better now, that she wouldn't try to hurt them or herself again, but the words wouldn't come out. Vaguely, at the back of her mind, she knew she must be really badly injured for them to be keeping her so heavily sedated, but she couldn't really understand her own thoughts right now. She lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness, trying to enjoy the peace that had settled upon her. Even when she was relaxing normally, her genius mind was usually working away on something, so she decided to just enjoy the vague feeling of dozy weightlessness that had settled upon her.

Voices drifted in and out of her consciousness, but she couldn't always make sense of them.

_"This is ridiculous. I'm her mother."_

_"I understand that, ma'am, but our hands are tied."_

_"He nearly died for her! This is absurd."_

_"Mrs Martin, I need you to calm down. We have no choice."_

The voices faded away. It felt like hours passed. Had Lydia been asleep? She wasn't sure.

"What do you mean?" Stiles' voice rang out from the hallway outside her room, shrill and panicked.

"What I said, Stiles - they took him away. There was nothing I could do."

"Well... You're her mom! Surely you could have done something?" He was shouting now, his voice heavy with frustration.

"I tried, Stiles!" They were speaking together so familiarly, and Lydia wondered when they had become so close.

"Then try harder! Call a lawyer! Just... do something!" Stiles sounded helpless and Lydia's heart constricted painfully as she struggled to make sense of what she was hearing.

"Stiles. Calm down. He saved my daughter. I wont let anything happen to him. Lydia's dad has been on the phone all morning. We're getting the best lawyers money can buy, OK? We'll get him out."

Lydia drifted away again.

_"Honey? I bought you some of those flowers? The ones you always liked, from outside your window? I'll just put them here for you..."_

The next thing Lydia was aware of, there was beeping and shouting and crying. Her mother was crying. She wanted to open her eyes, to tell her to stop, but her whole body felt like it was on fire. Her blood felt like lava running through her veins and she could hear her heart beating too loud and too fast in her ears. Doctors and nurses were shouting technical things and Lydia wanted to scream at them to help her, but she couldn't make a sound. She could only lie still, her body wracked with silent agony as she listened to the sound of her own heart monitor get faster and faster, eventually joining into one, long, ominous beeping sound. Blackness swallowed her, and this time, there were no dreams and no voices.

The next time she woke up, she knew she was awake for good this time. The heavy feeling was gone and she stretched out a little in the uncomfortable bed, ignoring the jolts of pain that ran through her body. Without asking, she knew she had been unconscious for quite some time. The haze that had settled over her mind was replaced with a desperate need for answers. The events of the attack came flooding back to her, and she pushed them away, trying to think about everything that had happened since then. Everything came back to her at once, but she couldn't make any sense of it. Though she was totally lucid now, she knew they had kept her heavily sedated and she was struggling to work out what was real and what wasn't. She suspected that her, Stiles and Derek hadn't, in fact, had a threesome in real life. What a pity. _Derek and Stiles._ Where were they?

She prised her eyelids open to peer around the hospital room. She had to blink a few times to get rid of the sticky sleep that resided there.

"Mom...?" She croaked, her voice coming out as barely more than a harsh whisper. Her throat felt ragged, like she'd been gargling nails. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness in the room and she could just make out the form of her sleeping mother starting to stir in her chair. Next to her, Stiles was slumped sideways across a single chair, his head hanging nearly to the floor, and his feet resting haphazardly in her mother's lap. She wanted to smile at how ridiculous they looked together.

"Lydia?" Her mom's voice was unsure and sleep filled, like she wasn't sure she believed that Lydia was really awake.

Lydia murmured a small "Mm hmm" in response, as her mother jumped out of her chair and rushed over to her. His feet suddenly displaced, Stiles found himself sprawled on the floor, blinking up in shock as Mrs Martin enveloped Lydia in a delicate hug, clearly mindful of her daughter's wounds. She sobbed into the scratchy fabric of the hospital gown and Lydia tried to pat her on the back reassuringly, while still being mindful of the drips and wires that she was still attached to. They both looked tired and haggard, her mother's usually neat bob sticking up in all directions, and Stiles looking even paler than usual.

"Stiles. Get the doctor!" Mrs Martin said frantically, muffled as she spoke into her daughter's hair.

Stiles stared up at them both, still for a second, before jumping to his feet with unusual grace and rushing from the room. Lydia could hear his frantic voice as he retreated down the hall, calling for a doctor.

Her mom settled herself into sitting next to her on the bed, and pulled back from her, taking her face in both hands.

"How is this possible?" She whispered, incredulously.

Lydia just stared back at her, confused, but unable to form any coherent thoughts.

"Water," she managed to croak out, and her mother hurriedly grabbed the jug of water and poured her a glass. Lydia took it from her gratefully and gulped it down, relishing the cool feeling against her parched throat. She was on her second glass, starting to feel uncomfortable under her mother's intense, worried gaze, when she started to feel like herself again.

"Mom. Where's Derek?" Her mom shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the room as if the answer would spring out of one of the dark corners. She was saved from answering by arrival of a slightly scruffy, tired-looking doctor, and breathed a sigh of relief that did not go unnoticed by Lydia.

"Welcome back, Miss Martin. We sure are surprised to see you!" He spoke in a slight southern drawl, flicking floppy dark hair out of his eyes as he poured over her chart. He glanced up at her briefly, flashing her a tight smile, before looking back down at the chart, his brow furrowed as he read.

"I'm Dr. Shepherd. It's nice to finally see you awake, even if it seems like you've decided to rejoin us sooner than expected," he said, brimming with false cheeriness. Her mom was trying to smile at her, but looked worried through her teary grin, while Stiles was hovering near the doctor, flashing her a real, genuine smile.

Lydia was silent as the doctor bustled around her, flicking at the drip that was still attached to her arm, listening to her heartbeat and checking her responses.

"Do you remember what happened?" The question caught Lydia off guard, as she recalled Peter's long fangs sinking into her shoulder. He was shining a tiny flashlight into her eyes, moving back and forth and Lydia concentrated on keeping her eyes forward, ignoring Stiles' shifting in her peripherals.

"Erm... No. Not really," she muttered. She didn't know what Stiles and Derek would have told people. He tucked the flashlight away and held up his finger in front of her.

"Well, you were in pretty bad shape when your friends brought you in- Follow my finger please," he instructed, before continuing. Lydia focused on following the movement of his finger in front of her face.

"You're lucky you have such good friends. If they hadn't got you here when they did... " He trailed off as Lydia made eye contact with a sheepish looking Stiles. "Well, it's just a good job they got you here so quickly." He finished, looking a little awkward.

"You were making good progress, giving our nurses hell, I hear?" He smirked at her, and she gave him a small smile in return, remembering her little outburst. She wondered if any of her flailing fists had made contact with any of the well-meaning nurses, feeling guilty already.

"But you took a turn for the worst and, to be perfectly honest, we're not sure why. We thought it was an infection at first, but you had no symptoms other than the elevated temperature and increased heart rate. There was no trace of any toxins in your blood, and when you coded, we had no choice but to put you into a medically induced coma. That was three days ago." He finished dramatically.

Lydia stared between the three of them, feeling uneasy.

"OK," she puffed the word out in a short breath, not knowing what to say. She ran her hand through her tangled locks.

"So I've been asleep for 3 days and no-one thought to brush my hair?" She asked, incredulously. Stiles laughed, while her mom and the doctor exchanged nervous looks.

"I don't think you understand, Miss Martin. You've been more than just asleep. A medically induced coma is a serious thing, and, somehow, you've managed to bring yourself out of it without any help from us. I've never seen anything like it."

Her mother laughed nervously.

"Well, she's always been a fighter." The doctor didn't look entirely convinced, but plastered the well-trained smile on his face and gestured for Mrs Martin to follow him outside.

"Yes, I can see that. Mrs Martin, can I talk to you outside about Lydia's progress?" He paused at the door, and turned back to Lydia, who was still sitting, looking dumbstruck. "I know it's a lot to take in, but your vitals are really strong. I'm not saying I understand how you've managed to wake yourself up, but I'm really pleased with the progress you've been making and, all being well, you should be able to go home within the next couple of days. Rest up, OK?" He strolled out into the corridor, her mother in tow.

Now they were alone, the silence grew stifling. Stiles hovered awkwardly in the corner. He'd barely looked at her since she'd woken up and even now, his tired eyes darted guiltily around the room, landing anywhere but her.

"Well, say something!" Lydia snapped, feeling more and more like herself with every passing second.

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat.

How're you feeling?" He said, feeling stupid as soon as he said it.

She swallowed the snarky reply that bubbled up.

"Overwhelmed," she replied, honestly.

In a second, he crossed the room and came to perch delicately on the edge of her bed, taking her hand in his own. His palms were clammy as they enveloped hers, but, for once, she didn't complain, smiling at him as his thumbs traced small circles on the back of her hand.

"I'm so sorry," he muttered, casting his eyes down to stare at the bed. She gave his hand a small squeeze.

"Don't be! From the sounds of it, if you and Derek hadn't got me here... Well, it sounds like I have the both of you to thank for being alive right now. Where is Derek?" A distant memory of something she heard when she was asleep tugged at her, but she couldn't remember what it was. The pained look on Stiles' face told her that her suspicions were correct.

"Stiles," she said, more insistently, this time. "Where's Derek?"

"They... He got arrested, Lyd."

* * *

**Hey! Been a while, huh? Well, 4 days. But 4 days is a long time for me! I'm surprised you didn't all try to file missing persons reports for me!**

**It's just taking me a little bit longer to write the next couple of chapters because my detailed notes for this story only went up until Lydia got attacked, so I'm pretty much winging it now. I've had this chapter written for a couple of days now, but I wanted to get most of the next one written aswell, so I could figure out how they were gonna fit together. I didn't want to post this, and then realise I'd made a mistake and wanted to change something. **

**Also, DISCLAIMER! For real, I know less than nothing about medicine. I have no friends who do anything medically for a job, and I don't even watch Grey's Anatomy! So, I have completely made up all the medical crap in this chapter. None of it is true, and I 100% know that. So, don't be messaging saying "That's not factually accurate!" because, I already know! Let's just suspend our disbelief for a moment and pretend that all the medical stuff makes sense.**

**Obviously I've raised some questions in this chapter, so the next one will be from the boy's POV, maybe clearing up some of the mysteries I've created. Hope you enjoy it! Should only be a day or two to the next chapter. **

**Reviews are always welcome and appreciated! Love you guys!**

**xxx**


	13. Blood Red

Derek was in his apartment, playing Halo when he got the call. Unrecognised number. He frowned, but picked up the phone anyway.

"Yes?"

"Derek? Derek? It's Stiles!" The boy on the other end was shouting over the loud music that was playing at his end of the phone call. Derek could make out happy, shouting voices over the booming bass of some trashy Flo Rida song in the background. He hated that he knew it was Flo Rida playing. He blamed Isaac for always having MTV playing in the background whenever he was there. There was never _anything_ good on MTV. Derek scowled down the phone, as if Stiles could see him.

"Wait! Hang on!" Stiles yelled, and Derek listened as he heard the sound of a door swinging shut and the music dimming to a dull hum in the background.

"Sorry, it's crazy in there." Stiles sounded breathless and for once, like he was having some fun.

Derek said nothing and Stiles cleared his throat, taking a deep breath before continuing, less excitable than before.

"So, dude! Where are you?"

"I'm at home, Stiles."

"Oh..." Stiles sounded confused for a second. "OH!" He repeated, this time as if he had come to some kind of sudden realisation.

"So... night in?" He said pointedly, his words dripping with double meaning. "Are you and Lydia like, a thing now then?" His voice had a dejected note to it now, in stark contrast to the excitable Stiles he had been speaking to only moments before.

"What? What are you talking about?" Derek sat up, feeling uneasy all of a sudden.

"You and Lydia. It's cool. Like, I don't care or anything." Stiles lied, obviously.

"Stiles. Lydia's not here. We're not..." He trailed off, feeling tense.

"But... She said she was meeting you?" Stiles voice faltered now, and both of them realised the truth at the same time. Derek sprang to his feet and growled down the phone.

"Stiles! Where did she say she was meeting me?"

"I.. I don't know!" Stiles voice was panicked now, and Derek could hear the sound of an inhaler rattling. While he might not understand exactly what was going on, he knew enough to be scared of the worried tone in Derek's voice. "She didn't say!"

"She must be at the house. It's the only place he would have sent her," Derek muttered, mostly to himself, as he paced up and down his living room.

"What? Who? Derek! If it's not you, who's she meeting?"

"Peter," Derek spat the word, before tossing his phone on the floor, rage overtaking him. He took off, slamming the door behind him, shunning his camaro, knowing he could get there faster on foot. The sprint there was a blur, as he hovered between wolf and man, trying not to imagine what could be happening in his old house right now. His mind swam with horrific images as the tall, charred chimney finally came into view over the tops of the thick woodland surrounding it. He was still half a mile away when his werewolf hearing picked up on the first tiny sound from the house.

"Please..." Lydia's voice was a small, pitiful whisper that he could barely make out over the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears. She sounded scared and he cursed himself for still being so far away. He increased his pace, running as fast as he could, the sound of his feet crunching into the leaves almost loud enough to block out the scuffling sounds of a struggle coming from the house. Lydia's sobs mingled with Peter's grunts and Derek sped up even more, closing the distance between him and the house faster than even he thought possible. He was blinded for a second as a bright white light suddenly appeared in front of him. Shielding his eyes, he stopped to see Stiles' jeep pulling up in front of him, Stiles looking panicked from the driver's seat. He had been so preoccupied with the sounds coming from the house, he hadn't even registered the clunking, faltering sound of Stiles' almost-failing engine making it's way up the trail to the house. The brakes squealed as he stopped inches away from a shocked looking Derek.

"What are you doing here?" Derek growled at him, as Stiles leapt gracefully from the car.

"Helping you save her. What was I supposed to do after THAT phone call? Just go back to watching Erica and Isaac try and make a tiny werewolf baby on the dancefloor?"

Derek scowled at him, before a blood-curdling scream of pain drew their attention back to the house. Both of them immediately sprang up the steps, Derek instinctively pushing Stiles behind him as they burst into the house and ran towards the source of the whimpers. Derek's nose filled with the metallic tang of blood and as he rounded the corner, he saw why. Both him and Stiles stood frozen for all of a split second as they took in the scene before them. Lydia was lying still - too still - in a ever growing pool of dark red blood that mingled with the red dress that was fanned out around her. Peter was straddling her legs, his hands holding her dress up near her hips. Far too much pale skin was exposed, glowing white in the moonlight filtering in through the shuttered window. Peter lowered his face to the top of her thigh and Derek saw red, leaping across the darkened room to tackle Peter away from her. Stiles didn't even see him move, but suddenly, both werewolves were across the other side of the room, a blur of claws and limbs. Stiles snapped back to reality and threw himself down next to Lydia, not really knowing what to do.

"Lydia? Lydia. Can you hear me?" His hands ghosted over her face, scared to touch her in case he hurt her even more. Her eyelids were half closed and her only response to him being there was a soft groan. Now he was close to her, she looked even worse than he'd first feared, dark bruises beginning to form around her throat and shoulders from her and Peter's vicious struggle, dark tears and eye makeup streaked down her deathly pale face. His eyes glanced down to her underwear that was peaking out from where her dress was bunched up, and he immediately smoothed the fabric down, covering her up. He instantly felt stupid that covering her up had been his first instinct, but he knew he was just trying to avoid focusing on the worst of her injuries - The huge chunk of flesh that was missing from her shoulder. Blood was pumping steadily from the wound, and Stiles didn't need to be a doctor to know that Peter was bitten through some sort of major artery.

"Lyd? It's Stiles. You're... You're gonna be fine." He lied, his voice breaking as tears sprang into his eyes. His voice roamed delicately over her throat, his fingers blindly searching for a pulse, not really knowing what he was doing. His hands felt only icy cold, clammy flesh and he tore his smart, dark grey jacket off and tried to wrap it round her as best he could. Her blood soaked into it instantly and a stupid voice in the back of his head told him he wouldn't be getting his security deposit back. Thinking back to what people in movies did when someone was bleeding to death - not bleeding to _death_, he corrected himself. She was going to be fine - he suddenly ripped his plain white shirt off, glad of the adrenaline that gave him the strength to rip all the buttons off in one go. Shivering against the cold night air, he realised he was wearing his Walking Dead T shirt. It's "Dead Inside" logo seeming strangely apt as he remembered the monster fighting it out behind him. He pressed the wadded up material against the wound, expecting her to wince or move in some way, and feeling an overwhelming panic set in when she didn't react at all.

"Lydia? Lydia? Come on. Stay with me. Don't do this." His voice was frantic but she remained unmoved, her eyes closed, lying eerily still.

"Derek? DEREK?!" He shouted, chancing a glance behind him just in time to see Derek spin Peter so they were both facing Stiles, Derek's hand closing around Peter's throat while the other held him in place.

"Derek, I don't think she's breathing!" Derek didn't even take a moment to think before slamming Peter's head into the wall next to him. Plaster and dust rained down as Peter slumped to the ground. Stiles briefly wondered if he was dead or just unconscious, but decided not to think about it too much. He wasn't sure if he cared either way. Derek was by Lydia's side in a flash and Stiles stayed quiet as Derek stared at her intently for a moment.

"Her heart is beating," he said quietly. "But she's weak. I can't... " He trailed off, looking angrier than Stiles had ever seen him. All the fight that had filled him a moment before seemed to drain out of him. He rose back up to his feet, and turned slightly. "I can't move her. She wont make it."

"Then we call an ambulance! They can come to us!" Stiles shouted.

"They'll be too late!" Derek yelled back. "You don't understand. She's... she's nearly gone, Stiles." His voice trailed off quietly, which made the sound of his fist slamming into the wall seem even louder. Stiles flinched, shocked by his outburst and the fact that he seemed to have given up, as Derek regarded his bloody hand with sudden interest.

"No! Do something! You have to do something! She can't-" Stiles was crying now, tears running down his face, as he flashed back to saying these exact words to his dad all those years ago. He wouldn't lose her too. Derek looked up at him, still holding his bloodied hand up in front of him.

"I..." He hesitated, as if he was in a war with himself. "There's something." His eyes darted back and forth as he clearly debated internally.

"I don't even know if it would work. I saw my mother do it once, but that was with a wolf. I don't even know if it would work with a human. But she _is_ immune... So maybe..." Stiles watched, fascinated as Derek seemed to be talking to himself, arguing about some unknown procedure. He seemed to settle on a decision and turned to run out of the room. For one horrifying second, Stiles thought he had left, leaving Stiles shivering and alone, as the girl he'd been in love with since the fifth grade died in his arms. But he returned almost immediately, carrying a large first aid box, covered in dirt and ash. The contents seemed largely undamaged though, as Derek sank down next to her, pulling out needles and tubes from what was clearly a well-stocked box.

Stiles flinched as, without warning, Derek turned her pale arm over and stuck the needle into the wiry blue vein that shone just below the surface. He realised Derek's intention as Derek's slightly shaking hands deftly hooked up a tube to the needle and, without even pausing, inserted the needle at the other end into his own tanned forearm. He would have stopped him if there had been any other choice, but this seemed to be their only option, and Stiles could only look on, his mouth hanging open as the dark blood shot through the tube, flowing into Lydia's veins.

"Will it turn her?" Stiles whispered, glancing up at Derek who was staring at Lydia with an unreadable expression.

"I don't know." Derek replied honestly. Stiles expected him to elaborate but he said nothing, only continued to stare at Lydia's still face. They sat in silence for a few moments, Stiles watching Derek as he intently studied Lydia. Stiles glanced down at her too, and wondered if he was imagining the pink that seemed to already be creeping back into her cheeks. He let his now completely sodden shirt fall away from her shoulder and was pleased to see she had stopped bleeding. Lowering his ear to her face, he could hear tiny, shallow breaths coming now and, taking her free hand in his, it felt less icy cold than it had a minute ago.

"I think it's working," Stiles murmured, starting to feel almost hopeful again, until he looked up at Derek's face. His whole face was contorted into a grimace and all the colour had drained out of his cheeks. A sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead and he looked like he was about to keel over.

"Derek, that's enough." Derek didn't move.

"Derek! Stop!" He moved to grab at the tube that connected them, but Derek's free hand shot out, grabbing painfully at Stiles' wrist.

His eyes connected with Derek's and he shrank back a little as Derek's eyes glowed red for a second, before growing dull and tired again.

"Derek! She's breathing now. You have to stop!" Stiles wrenched his hand away from Derek's grip, surprised for a moment that Derek let him, before ripping the tube out of his arm, without warning. He tenderly reached down to pull the needle out of Lydia's arm, holding his finger over the tiny dot of blood that appeared there. In his peripherals, he saw Derek move slightly, and glanced up at him just in time to see his eyes flutter close and his whole body slump to the side, crashing against the dusty floorboards.

* * *

**Another flashback chapter, and, I wont lie, I think there'll be more flashbacks to come cause it makes it so easier to tell the story if you can use everyone's perspectives. **

**So, my favourite part of this chapter? Erica and Isaac making "tiny werewolf babies on the dancefloor"! Ha! - Dunno where it came from, but they're both so broken - I kinda love them together! Yay!**

**Also, yet again, my earlier disclaimer stands! I know NOTHING about anything medical and I seriously hate anything to do with needles so I couldn't even ****_think_**** about how a transfusion works. I decided that Derek's mom might be some kind of werewolf healer who passed on some vague medical knowledge to him so he knows how to perform a very simple, homemade transfusion. Once again, it will be easier if you just suspend your disbelief and accept what I'm telling you. Don't start pulling at threads cause the whole thing will unravel like a poorly made sweater. Congrats if you guessed he'd given her his blood. You're all so very clever. Cookies all round. :)**

**Anyhoo, thanks for your reviews! Keep em coming, dearies!**

**xxx**


	14. Nature of the relationship

**Holy long chapter, Batman! This one got away from me! Jeez louise! Anyhoo, I was ill AGAIN for my day off, so I spent it in bed with soup and tea, writing pretty much constantly all day. I banged out three massive chapters in one go, so they're all ready to go. I'll try to space them out with a coupla days in between though, cause I don't wanna bombard y'all with loads all in one go. Anyhoo, enjoy!**

* * *

Stiles stared helplessly at the three unconscious bodies on the floor around him. He spared only a passing glance at Peter, only really checking that the man was still lying bruised and still in a pile of plaster and dirt, before turning his attention back to the two people he actually cared about. Derek had toppled sideways to lie next to Lydia, their hands reaching out to each other, almost touching. Stiles couldn't help but think of Romeo and Juliet as he gazed upon the scene before him. Derek was still wearing the bruises and scratches of his fight with Peter, the wounds no longer healing due to how much blood he had given Lydia. While his wounds seemed to stand out in stark contrast to the unnatural pale of his skin, Lydia's seemed to fade into the sudden rosiness that tinted her flesh. Stiles felt a helpless wave of panic engulf him as the adrenaline he'd been running on wore off, and he realised the predicament he was in. He fought to control his breathing as he leaned forward to press the back of his hand against Lydia's flushed forehead. He couldn't believe how hot she felt against his hand, compared to the cold porcelain she'd been a few minutes ago.

Derek in contrast, looked paler than he'd ever seen him, and he groaned slightly when Stiles tentatively reached out to prod him. He was worried about being too intimate with the sleeping wolf, in case he suddenly woke up to find Stiles hovering over him, his hands all over him. His mind raced as he tried to work out what to do. He couldn't see any way out of the situation and threw his head in his hands, willing his overactive mind to figure something out. He wanted to call his dad, like a child, but the thought of having to explain it all was mindboggling. Besides, knowing any of this stuff would make him even more of a target than he already was and he couldn't risk that. He needed someone he trusted, someone who already knew about all this werewolf stuff - Melissa McCall! He would call her. He couldn't think of anyone else he could trust with any of this.

10 minutes later, he heard the familiar sound of the minivan pulling up outside the house. He had spent the time sitting, panicking, willing himself not to hyperventilate. Not one of the three had woken or even stirred in that time and he felt like the most useless person who ever lived, holding Lydia's hand pathetically. He sprang up, hunching his shoulders, not knowing what to say when Mrs McCall came rushing through the door, gasping as she looked around the room.

"Stiles?! Oh my god! What happened here? Your message said... " Her voice trailed off as her eyes landed on Lydia, lying prone in the huge pool of blood.

Her nurse training kicked in and her instincts took over as she dropped down next to Lydia, her hands expertly feeling for a pulse. Stiles stood back helplessly as she took over, hurrying around Lydia, propping her into the recovery position.

"What happened, Stiles? I don't..." Melissa was at a loss for words, now she was content that Lydia was alive. She completely ignored the other two unconscious figures, focusing all her attention on the tiny, blood covered redhead in the centre of the room.

Stiles hesitated, before Melissa shot him a look that told him not to lie to her. The words just tumbled out of him as he tried to explain everything that he knew, which didn't feel like much. Melissa was silent, her expression unreadable as she listened to him.

"And so Derek hooked up this tube thing and gave her his blood and she seemed to get better like, straight away, but I think he gave her too much, because he like, fainted or something."

"I did not FAINT," a small, groaning voice said from the floor. He was still lying down, shuffling groggily where he lay. Melissa dropped down next to him, taking his face in her hands.

"Derek? Can you hear me?"

His eyes were drooping heavily, and he murmured before slumping back down to the floor again.

"Has he... Has he turned her into one of Them?" She whispered, her voice dripping with ill disguised disgust.

"I don't know. I don't think so. Lydia's different. She's... immune."

Melissa took a deep breath, considering this new piece of information. She was taking this all very well, considering she'd had only found out that werewolves existed a few short months ago. Stiles knew from Scott that she had pushed him away at first, before starting to tentatively ask questions and start to piece together her own view on the whole thing. Not for the first time, Stiles was reminded just how cool Melissa McCall was, as she stared long and hard at the prone red head on the floor. Stiles hoped she was figuring out a plan to get them out of this.

"Right, well, as long as she's... human," she said the word like she still found it somewhat ridiculous to think of anyone as anything other than human, "we can just take her to the hospital."

Stiles stared at her for a moment, not sure what to say. In all the drama, she must had forgotten about Derek.

"But," his eyes flitted to the slightly stirring man on the floor, "what about Derek?"

Her eyes grew steely as she got her phone out.

"What about Derek?" Her voice was hard.

"He's... He's not looking too good. We can't just leave him here... Especially with him." He flicked his head towards Peter, who was still lying in the corner. Stiles grew more and more convinced that he wouldn't be waking up any time soon. He found himself not caring.

"My concern here is Lydia. Her pulse is there but still fairly weak. Whatever Derek did, he seems to have kept her stable for now, but she needs to go to hospital, Stiles. I... I don't know what to do with Derek."

She looked conflicted as she ran her hand through her wild curls, causing them to stick up in all directions. Her eyes were wide and guilt was written all over her face. Stiles knew she wasn't trying to be callous in abandoning Derek. He understood the predicament he had landed her in. If he was honest, his first instinct was to protect Lydia aswell, but Derek was... Well, Derek was Derek. They weren't quite friends, but Derek had put his life on the line for Stiles countless times and never really asked for anything in return. Maybe his werewolf physiology would heal him, but maybe it wouldn't, and Stiles couldn't risk the thought of Derek waking up, alone with Peter on the dusty floor of the house that was so full of memories. Or worse, not waking up at all.

He'd never disagreed with Melissa before. He liked the woman and had pretty much grown up at her house. He hesitated to think of her as replacement mom, because he had a mom, she just wasn't around, but, for want of a better expression, that's what she was. She'd taken care of him when his dad was too busy with work, kept him supplied with fish sticks and curly fries through his growing years and kissed his grazes better when he'd fallen down playing in their yard. He wasn't sure how to disagree with her, but he had to try.

"Mrs M, we can't just leave him here. Anything could happen to him."

Melissa looked at him, exasperated before he continued, his voice soft.

"I know we have to get Lydia to hospital, but Derek's my friend too. We have to help him."

Melissa huffed out a breath, her eyes flitting to both the unconscious people on the floor.

"I know," she said sadly. She had known it all along. "I just don't know what to do. We can't just take him to the hospital. Can we?"

Her eyes lit up with a sudden idea.

"Deacon!" She scrambled for her phone.

"What? How do you even know Deacon?"

"Scott sent me to him. He wasn't... He wasn't that knowledgeable about any of it, and he thought Deacon might be able to answer more of my questions." Stiles suppressed a smile. Scott wasn't that knowledgeable about ANYTHING. And since he'd pushed Derek's offers of the pack and with it, all the answers away, he was especially useless when it came to werewolf stuff.

Stiles was silent as she dialled and waited for the man to pick up. While he still found Deacon kinda creepy, he couldn't help but feel a lot calmer now the man was involved. Derek shifted and murmured slightly, his hand sliding slightly closer to Lydia's, and Stiles wondered who the tiny pang of jealousy he felt was directed at. There was no time for jealousy now though, as Melissa calmly explained that Deacon had to come to the house quickly - "_Werewolf business"_ - she whispered conspiratorially and Stiles wanted to laugh. He felt himself relax slightly at the thought of Deacon being on his way. No matter what problem they'd taken to Deacon, he'd always been able to help them. No doubt that between his calm demeanour and Melissa's slightly frantic "mom-mode", they would have the situation fixed in no time.

* * *

Derek slowly let his eyes blink open. His whole body ached, his senses felt dulled and for once, he felt weak. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be human. He wondered how they could stand it. His mind flashed back to vague memories of being dragged through his house and through stark hospital corridors. Warm hazel eyes and wild dark curls swam through his mind but he couldn't make sense of them. He tried to sit up, but he felt woozy.

"Whoa there, big guy." Stiles was sitting next to him, and they seemed to be in a small, darkened hospital room. Across from him, two men were talking in hushed, worried tones. He recognised one as the mysterious vet, Deacon, the man who had woken him up after Lydia had resurrected Peter. The other man was younger, dark scruffy hair flopping across his face. He was wearing blue hospital scrubs and was pouring over a chart thoughtfully. They both looked up when Stiles spoke.

"Ah. There you are. Welcome back," said Deacon, calmly. The other man flashed him a broad smile.

"What? What happened?" Derek's voice sounded slurred and distorted to his own ears.

"Well, you did a very stupid, very noble thing. And you nearly died." He said, simply.

"This is my colleague, Dr Shepherd. He works here at the hospital, specialising in... 'special' cases, like yours and Lydia's."

Derek perked up at the mention of her name, suddenly trying to stand but sinking back down when a wave of dizziness washed over him.

"Lydia! Where is she?"

It was Stiles who piped up this time.

"Whoa. She's fine. Well, she's gonna be. Thanks to you," he said, almost shyly. He realised that Stiles was sitting much too close to him, their thighs pressed against each other, their shoulders bumping. He should mind, but he felt reassured and decided not to question it too much. He couldn't remember feeling this comforted since... before the fire.

"How do you feel?" Dr Shepherd spoke for the first time, sounding slightly southern. His mind idly wondered if there were many wolves in the south. He couldn't imagine many werewolves running around the streets of Texas.

"Like shit," he replied, honestly. He didn't swear often. To be honest, he didn't even speak often, so he kept his curse words for then he really meant them. Stiles and Dr Shepherd laughed and even Deacon smirked.

"I'm not surprised. You're gonna feel a bit dizzy for a few hours. You gave her a lot of your blood."

He stepped towards Derek, his hands outstretched in mock surrender as Derek tensed.

"Ok, ok. I just wanna check you out." He took out his stethoscope and pressed it against Derek's hard chest. Derek would have normally objected at being treated like an invalid, but he was too exhausted to care.

"Brilliant. Your heartbeat's starting to return to normal. Looks like you're on the mend already!" The man was relentlessly cheery and it made Derek's teeth grind together.

Deacon spoke again, his voice quiet and calm.

"Where did you learn to do that? The transfusion?"

"My mother. She was the healer of the pack." He said, reluctantly. Stiles stared at him. He had never heard Derek talk about his family and he could see from the tension in the man's jaw that it was hard for him. He didn't say anymore and a tense silence settled over the room.

"Well, she taught you well. You saved that girl's life." Dr Shepherd spoke now, his cheery voice soft and quiet now. Derek nodded at him, acknowledging his words silently.

The door creaking open broke the awkward silence in the room. Melissa McCall slipped inside, closing the door quickly behind her.

"Hello Derek," she said tightly, her words coming out too formal to be truly sincere. "Glad to see you're feeling better."

She immediately turned her attention to the other people in the room.

"Ok, everything's going ok so far. Everyone know their part?" The other three nodded while Derek just looked dumbstruck.

"Stiles, can you get Derek up to speed please? Jack, here's the stuff you asked for." She handed Dr Shepherd, or Jack as she rather familiarly referred to him, a pile of bandages.

Jack moved to sit next to Derek and starting unravelling the spool of gauze.

"May I?" He paused, uncertain but Derek was too confused to really care what he was doing and gave him a small nod. The man turned Derek's head so he was facing away from him and started cutting a square of bandage. From his new position, Derek had no choice but to stare Stiles straight in the face. He shot him an awkward look that said he didn't know where to begin.

"So, do you remember anything?"

"Not really. I... I think I blacked out? And then someone was dragging me out of the house. I remember you being there." He nodded his head at Melissa, who smiled tightly at him. He could smell the fear coming off her, but was grateful she was being civil with him. He knew he had given people more than a few reasons to fear him, and with the recent revelation that her son was one of his kind, he knew it was hard to accept that they were anything more than monsters. It meant a lot that she was trying to get along with him.

"Well, you blacked out and I kinda freaked out and called Mrs M, who called Deacon and-"

"Stiles! The abridged version please. The police are waiting outside." Melissa looked a bit frazzled and Derek realised she must be putting her job on the line to protect them all.

"OK, OK." Stiles picked up the pace, the words tumbling out with his usual speed. "Well, Deacon called his contact, Jack, and we brought you guys here. We've come up with a story to cover for everything. You wont have to tell the police much. Your face isn't healing cause of how much blood you lost so the whole thing seems even more believable."

"What do you want me to say?" Derek said, wearily. "And did I hit my head? I don't remember hitting my head."

"No! It's all part of the story. Genius, right?" Stiles said, excitedly. Derek wanted to roll his eyes at how excited he was about the whole thing. He seemed to think the whole thing was a game.

"So, you and Lydia were on your way to the dance-"

"Together? No, no, no." Derek interrupted. "Yeah, that's not gonna work for me."

"It's all worked out now Derek. There's no time to change it now, and besides, how else would we explain the dress? She was just strolling around in a ball gown? Everyone in town already thinks you're together so it all makes sense."

Derek sighed heavily, silently cursing Lydia for dragging him into all this. A tiny part of him couldn't help but think that the whole thing would have never happened without her little white lie.

"Ok, so we were heading to the dance...?" He said, sounding exhausted already.

"Right, and you were attacked. You didn't see who it was cause you were hit on the head and knocked out and Lydia got stabbed and you both nearly died and it's all very tragic and romantic and people are gonna love it." Stiles blurted out, his words coming out in one long, breathless sentence. Jack finished applying the bandage to the perfectly fine patch of head, sitting back to admire his handiwork.

"No-one's going to believe that."

"Yes. They will. I'm a witness." He announced, proudly. "And Dr Shepherd patched Lydia up enough to make the whole thing work and they're so understaffed here that no-one's noticed anything different yet. And what are they gonna do? Check under the bandage? If we say you got hit on the head, you got hit on the head. It's gonna work. Trust me."

Derek didn't trust Stiles, not really, but he weirdly trusted Deacon for some unknown reason and the man was giving him a reassuring look. Everyone was staring at him expectantly and he shifted uncomfortably their collective gaze.

"Ok then." He tried to stand, his knees buckling under him.

Melissa caught him, her instincts to protect someone who needed help kicking in. She wrapped an arm awkwardly around his waist, flashing him a sheepish chuckle as her hand found his hard, toned abs.

"Take it easy, ok? You're not 100% yet." Derek leaned heavily against her, feeling guilty for putting so much weight on the small woman but not being able to help it. She smelled like Scott, and less like fear now that he was dozily resting against her, fairly helplessly.

Stiles sprang forward to clumsily take some of the weight off the tiny woman.

"I wanna see her." Derek slurred.

"She's not awake yet. She had some kind of episode so they put her under." Melissa supplied.

"I don't care. I just wanna see her, then I'll tell them whatever you want."

They all exchanged uneasy looks but, a few minutes later, Derek was being helped into Lydia's room by Melissa and Stiles, while Deacon and Jack finalised Lydia's phony chart. They all tried not to think about fraudulent it was to deliberately falsify medical documents. Stiles wanted to believe that Deacon and Jack knew what they were doing - He guessed it was not their first time covering up an incident of this nature, since they didn't seem too fazed by the whole thing.

Derek had looked incredibly tired as he gazed upon Lydia's pale visage, taking in the bruises forming all over her arms, the blood stained bandage peeking out from her hospital gown and his eyes following the wires to the many machines she was hooked up to. He sat down next to her, tenderly letting his hand touch hers for a second, before pulling away from her, scared to even touch her. Now he had seen her, the last dregs of adrenaline that were keeping him on his feet drained away and he felt suddenly exhausted. A tiny part of him almost hadn't believed that was ok, and now he had seen for himself that she was alright, he felt all the fight leave him and fatigue set in. The world blurred and he struggled to stay upright in his seat.

He heard Mrs McCall telling Stiles to take him home, and he tried to argue, his voice sounding slurred to his own ears.

"I'm gonna stay."

Melissa argued, telling Stiles that Derek was his friend. He wanted to disagree, to argue that he barely knew the boy. He'd just shoved him against a few walls, threatened him a bit and drove him home when he was drunk one time. Surely that didn't make them friends? Did it? He didn't have time to think about it, as he was being pulled onto his feet by the stronger-than-he-looked Stiles.

They were out in the corridor, Derek leaning heavily against Stiles, hating how weak he felt when he heard a voice behind them.

"Derek Hale?"

Stiles spun them round to see a man he recognised as one of his dad's deputies standing there, flashing his badge at them.

"We'd like to ask you some questions."

"He's got a concussion." Stiles blurted out, his words coming out too loud and too fast. Derek scowled at him and tried to push him away slightly to stand by himself. He was a terrible liar.

"I'm aware of that, but we'll still need to ask to come down to the station with us." The man looked insistent and Derek knew from the look on his face that their lie wasn't going to work.

"What's going on here?" A shrill, tired voice rang out down the corridor.

They all turned to look as a smart woman with a short auburn bob came sweeping down the corridor. Derek didn't recognise her, but he felt Stiles relax next to him.

"Ma'am. We were just taking Mr Hale down to the station."

"So I heard. And what gives you the right to do that? He's injured! He can answer your questions when he's feeling better." Derek had no idea who this woman was, but she spoke with an authority that made Derek inclined to like her. Her confidence didn't seem to work on the young, tired looking officer in front of them.

"No, actually, Mrs Martin. He's going to have to come with us now. I'm afraid we have some questions about his relationship with your daughter."

He suddenly recognised that determined look. He had seen it flash over Lydia's face several times, and now, as he looked at the small woman in front of him, he could see the resemblance between them.

"His relationship? What difference does that make? They've been attacked! You should be out there, trying to find who did this to them!"

The officer's expression was weary as he held his hands up, trying to placate the angry woman in front of him.

"Rest assured, we have our best working on it. As far as we can tell, this was just a random mugging that got out of hand. We're doing our best, Mrs Martin. But right now, we'd like to ask Mr Hale some questions about the nature of his relationship with your daughter."

"_The nature of his relationship_?" She echoed back to him, incredulous. Derek felt Stiles stiffen next to him and they both realised the glaringly obvious hole in their plan. He was older, ILLEGALLY older.

"Well, I don't see how that matters. He's her boyfriend. I knew exactly who she was going to the dance with."

"And you're aware that Mr Hale is nearly 7 years your daughter's senior?" His tone was judgemental and Stiles took a tiny step back with Derek, as if they could just sneak away from the awkward argument threatening to erupt in the hospital corridor. Mrs Martin bristled at his words, but a moment of realisation flashed across her face. Stiles wondered if she'd actually known how much older Derek was.

"Yes!" She shot back, defensively.

The officer sighed, obviously bored at having to deal with the whole thing.

He moved to take Derek's arm in a firm grip. Derek said nothing, just concentrated on staying upright as he was pulled away from the supportive, reassuring figure of Stiles.

"This is ridiculous. I'm her mother."

"I understand that, ma'am, but our hands are tied."

"He nearly died for her! This is absurd."

"Mrs Martin, I need you to calm down. We have no choice."

Mrs Martin and Stiles could only stand and watch in stunned silence as Derek was led away on stumbling feet by the determined officer.

"Well, that went better in my head." Stiles said.

* * *

**"Curse words"? Ha! Look at me trying to be all American. People always seem to use the term "curse words" on American TV, where over here in the UK we don't bother with all that nonsense. We just bring out "You wankaaaa!" without any bother. Yes, btw, I'm English. That's why sometimes my spellings might be a little bit... wrong to any americans. I do try and keep things fairly American. After all, it is an American show. While I refuse to spell colour as "color", I do try to adhere to things like "panties", "garbage" etc. Let me know if anything seems glaringly British. I am trying though. :)**

**I'm also hoping the way I'm dealing with the law over there is consistent? Over here, you gotta be 16 to have sex, but I'm pretty sure it's over 18 in most states in America. I would say it's more something that's 'frowned upon' over here, rather than being a huuuge legal issue, but I dunno how strict the laws over there are? I'm sure it wouldn't be ****_quite_**** this serious, but I assume a 24 and a 17 year old would still raise some questions, especially a mysterious 24 year old recluse who was once accused of murder. Once again, just go with me on these things, ok? Thanks!**

**Also, yes, the doctor is called Jack Shepherd, and if you're wondering, yes, I am picturing him as Jack from Lost. In my head, he looks like the young, scruffy Jack from the flashback episode where he first meets Sarah, when he's all young and hopeful. I don't know why I thought of him.. I just love him.**

**Thanks again to all my lovely reviewers! I heart you guys! Please keep any reviews, ideas or suggestions coming! I love hearing it all! You guys keep me writing, even when I write the characters into an awkward situation that I can't get them out of! It's been SO hard, working out how to tie up all the loose ends from the attack, but your reviews have kept me encouraged to work it all out and man up and write it all. Thanks!**

**More to come in probably about a day. **

**xxx**


	15. Abjured

**Thank you to everyone who offered info on laws relating to the age of consent. I'm genuinely fascinated by all the differences between each state. Some of it sounds_ absurdly _complicated! Anyhoo, the specifics for California actually turned out to fit pretty well, without me having to really change much. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Mr Hale, the longer you refuse to answer, the longer this goes on for."

Derek still said nothing. He had learned that he wasn't being charged, but wasn't exactly being given a choice about whether or not he stayed at the station. Thankfully, they had swallowed the main part of Stiles' story without much question. Fortunately, he was under no suspicion when it came to Lydia's condition and, as Stiles had predicted, no-one had checked under his bandage for his non-existent wound. They seemed to be agreeing with the seed that Stiles had planted that the whole thing was just a random mugging that had gone wrong. Derek quickly realised Stiles had even taken his wallet to make the whole thing seem more believable. The boy thought of everything.

He'd gasped when he'd caught sight of himself in the interview room mirror. Derek couldn't remember the last time he'd had a bruise or a cut that hadn't healed immediately, but the blood loss seemed to be inhibiting his body's ability to heal. In some ways, he was thankful - The black eye and split lip he'd sustained during his fight with Peter seemed to sell the whole attack story even more, and from the appreciative look the female officer in the room gave him, he must look rather dashing. She was clearly the good cop of the situation, whereas the man who'd bought him had made it clear he wasn't going to go easy on him. Good cop/bad cop. Classic.

"Do you understand the situation you're in, Mr Hale? Under California State Law, sex with a minor more than three years younger than you can potentially be charged as a felony. There's more than double that between you and Miss Martin." He smiled smugly at him, as Derek's hands unconcsiously curled into fists at his sides.

The slightly plain brunette simpered at him from under her lashes.

"Look, I know how it is, ok? High school girl with a crush? You just get caught up in these things and things get out of hand." She had no idea how right she was, but still Derek said nothing.

He hadn't said a single word since they'd brought him in and an untouched cup of coffee sat in front of him, cooling rapidly. He sat there, with a calm, uninterested look on his face, hoping he wasn't giving any of his panic away with his eyes. A few weeks ago, he would have happily thrown Lydia under the bus to save himself. After all, she was just the vain, vacuous girl who had been tricked into using him to resurect Peter, wasn't she? But since then, Derek had learnt there was more to Lydia Martin than that. He had seen her cry more than he had seen any other woman cry in his life and the panic he had felt when he thought she might die could only be matched by the helpless feeling he had had in his teen years, the day he had been told about the fire. It scared him that the girl could already mean so much to him in such a small space of time. This left him in somewhat of a dilemma as, if he disputed the story, Lydia would be the laughing stock of the town once again. Not worth going to jail for, some might say, but Derek had watched her fall apart so many times already, he wasn't sure what would happen if she lost everything again, branded as the town nutjob once more. And Lydia wasn't his only concern - Stiles, Melissa, Deaton and Dr Shepherd were also intrinsically wrapped up in the story. If he hadn't been going to the dance with Lydia, the whole thing would fall apart, questions would be asked and they could lose their jobs, or worse, considering he wasn't sure how official what Stiles had said was. He'd mentioned he was a witness, and if he'd made some sort of official statement, surely he could get in some kind of trouble? Derek had watched enough Law and Order to know that lying to the police was fairly frowned upon.

A sudden flurry of activity outside brought all their attention to the door which suddenly flew open to reveal an irrate looking Sherrif. The man smelled strongly of Stiles and Derek instantly calmed a little at the familar scent, knowing his must be Stiles' dad. He had mentioned he was the Sherrif, but Derek must have forgot.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He yelled. The two younger officers shrank down in their seats, looking away from him guiltily.

"Just a routine questioning, Sherrif," the little brunette piped up, her voice wavering a little.

"Like hell, you are!" The Sherrif replied, strolling confidently into the room with his hand in his pockets.

"You took a man with a concussion out of a hospital to question him about what? Idle teenage gossip?!" He was shouting now and the sound filled the small room.

"I didn't know we were in the habit of investigating rumours! My son tells me some kid called Greenberg is a bit of a dick. You want me to haul him in here, see if it's true?"

"It wasn't a rumour, boss. The girl's mother confirmed it." The arrogant officer spoke up now, his voice small and humble.

"Oh well then, by all means, if her mom said it! What the hell is the matter with you?" He leaned across to lightly smack the young officer on the back of the head. "Have you charged him with anything? Has he even been offered a lawyer?"

The two officers exchanged a look between them. Clearly they had wanted to have it all figured out and be the big shot's who finally nailed Derek Hale. Derek couldn't help but think of Al Pacino, finally getting done for tax evasion. Clearly, these officers still thought he was guilty of murder, but if they couldn't charge him with that again, they'd bring him in for anything. Statutory rape was a particularly low blow though.

"I've had the Martin's lawyer's on the phone and I didn't know what to tell him! Can you think how that makes me look? How that makes the whole department look?"

Derek's senses seemed to be coming back to him, slowly but surely, and he could sense the waves of embarrasment and shame coming off the young pair. It was almost unbearable as they got such a public dressing down from their superior in front of someone like him.

"Both of you, get out of my sight."

They both scrambled to their feet and scuttled out, leaving a cloud of awkwardness in their wake. Sheriff Stillinski sat down heavily opposite Derek, sighing and rubbing his head. Derek got the feeling that he was a man who took on a lot on a daily basis.

"I'm sorry about that, Mr Hale. I don't know what they were thinking."

Derek finally found his voice.

"I guess innocent till proven guilty is a hard concept for everyone to grasp." The Sheriff shifted uncomfortably in his seat at Derek's words. He himself had thought Derek guilty when he had charged him with his own sister's murder last year. His behaviour now showed that people could change though. Derek wasn't sure he'd even been so relieved as when he'd burst in. He understood now why Stiles spoke so highly of him. He chuckled lightly at Derek.

"I guess so. Listen, Mr Hale-"

"Derek, please." Derek interupted him. He didn't know why, but he felt comfortable with this man instantly and that almost never happened. Perhaps it was the link to Stiles that made him so at ease. Derek wondered idly when he had become so comfortable in Stiles' company.

"Derek. Ok, well. You're free to go. I'm not going to ask you anything about your relationship with Miss Martin, but might I suggest avoiding the hospital for a few days?"

Derek smiled at him and got to his feet slightly unsteadily.

"Go home, Derek and get some rest. You look like hell."

Derek held his hand out to shake the man's hand, laughing lightly.

"Thank you, Sheriff."

"John."

"Thank you, John."

* * *

Derek let himself into his apartment late that night, more tired than he had even been in his life and desparetly needing a shower. The fake bandage was making his head hot and itchy and he could still smell Lydia's blood all over him. A tiny noise from inside had him alert within a split second and he turned the light on with his whole body tensed for action, expecting the worst.

He gasped at the scene in front of him. A bloodied, battered Peter was lying, still and silent, getting dust and blood all over his cheap sofa. Erica was sitting next to his head, her hand clamped around his throat, though he was clearly unconcious and going nowhere, and Isaac was perched next to his torso, Peter's hands clasped hard between his own. Boyd stood leaning against the wall, his arm crossed, coolly surveying the scene. All three of them turned to look at him as he stood in the doorway, frozen in shock. Erica and Isaac's eyes were wide and they looked out of their depth, while Boyd looked as calm as ever. For the first time, Derek regretted turning kids so young, when he took in the terrified looks on Erica and Isaac's face.

"What did you do?" They looked guilty and he immediately regretted choosing such accusing words.

"I told you he wouldn't like his!" Erica hissed at Boyd, who looked unfazed.

"We got him." He shrugged calmly, his expression looking vaguely bored of the whole thing.

"I heard Stiles call you from the dance." Erica whispered, her voice small. Despite being dressed in a black dress that should have made her look so much older, Derek was reminded that Erica was only 16. A rip in the black lace told him that there'd been a fight and his heart constricted painfully at the thought of this... child fighting someone on his behalf. "We tracked you to the house but we were too late. You were gone, but we found Peter's trail and followed him."

"You shouldn't have done that." He growled quietly, shutting the door behind him.

"I told you!" Erica repeated, childishly.

"You could have gotten hurt! I can't believe you went off by yourselves."

They all stared at him in shock, even Boyd looked surprised.

"You're not... You're not angry?" Isaac queried.

"Yes, I'm angry! You're just kids!"

"Wolves," Boyd corrected him, quietly. "We're not kids anymore, Derek. We made our choice. We're wolves now and we can take care of ourselves."

Derek tried to hide the rush of emotion that he felt towards the normally stoic Boyd. He saw alot of himself in the boy, saving his words for when they really mattered.

Isaac spoke up, his eyes still wide and nervous. Derek always hated when he looked at him like that.

"You said the Hale Pack were responsible for the safety of the humans of Beacon Hills. And we're part of the Hale Pack now so..." He trailed off and Derek couldn't contain the rush of pride he felt towards them. Though he did somewhat regret choosing such young, vulnerable teens, he knew instantly that they understood now, understood what it meant to be part of his pack, and he immediately knew he had made the right choice when he turned all three of them.

"Did he really kill Lydia?" Erica said sadly.

"What?" Derek was shocked by the genuine sadness he heard in her voice and all three of them were respectfully casting their eyes downwards.

"Her blood... We smelt her blood at the house. And it's all over you now."

"No. She's fine. I... She..." He struggled with how much to tell them. He wasn't sure where to begin. "Stiles was there. He took her to hospital. They said she'd going to be fine."

All three of them visibly relaxed.

"We thought he was lying." Issac said. "We thought he'd killed her. There was so much blood." He sounded haunted.

"He wanted to. He nearly did. She was... in a bad way." His face darkened when he thought of the situation he had walked in on.

Derek was surprised when Erica suddenly lashed out, hitting the still-unconcious Peter in the face.

"Bastard," she muttered, darkly. They all looked surprised. Erica had made no secret of her dislike of Lydia, but Derek suddenly realised she was a girl who had spent her whole life being bullied and taken advantage of - Apparently the idea of the same thing happening to another young woman was enough to inspire some delayed feminist instinct. Boyd and Isaac both smirked at her, pride easy to read on their faces.

Derek tried not to notice the love triangle that was brewing within his own pack. Aside from the separate mating behaviours of the alphas, monogamous relationships were rare within packs, especially 'made' packs. With no chance of anyone being related by blood, the intense intimacy that usually grew within a pack would usually disolve naturally into one big relationship. Derek had deliberately kept this from them. They didn't need to know anything about it when they were so young. It was a talk he hoped he'd never have to have with them, but, from the way both Boyd and Isaac were hungrily looking at Erica, he felt it was a conversation that would have to come eventually. She flashed them both a small, shy smile.

"What shall we do with him?" Isaac said, the fearful look thankfully gone from him eyes. His hands visibly tightened around Peter's wrists.

"I... I don't know," Derek said, honestly.

"We should kill him," Erica said innocently, tossing her blond curls out of her face.

"God, Erica! We can't just kill him," Isaac said, shocked.

"Can't we?" Boyd muttered from the corner.

They all turned to him, expectantly, like he would have the answer. In truth, he didn't. He knew what the wolf within wanted to do. It wanted to tear Peter limb from limb and put him in the ground, like he had a year ago. But things were different now. He was the Alpha - these teens looked up to him, and he needed to let the man within take control and make the decision. Obviously, they couldn't call the police. Peter technically hadn't been seen since going missing from his hospital bed a year ago and Derek didn't want to have to construct more lies to get themselves out of this. After all, lies had got them into this in the first place.

He suddenly realised there WAS something they could do, something he had witnessed once, a long time ago. Even before that, he recalled hearing his mother refer to it in hushed tones. He knew it was a big deal in the werewolf world, but he wasn't really sure what it would mean, for Peter, or for Lydia. He had thought that banishment would work, but in his heart, he knew that they were just words, a symbolic gesture that held alot of formal meaning, but no real power. But the ceremony he had seen all those years ago was something powerful and permanent.

When Laura was only a teen, she had been promised as a mate to a large, strong Louisiana pack, with a view to strengthen the ties between the packs. It became clear once the pack had come to visit that such a match would only weaken the Hale clan. The Herveaux pack had proven themselves to be wild and lawless, and had not fitted in with the formal, respectful family that his father had created. Things had come to a head when Alcide, the large, brooding were who had come to take his sister had thrown his current girlfriend away very publicly, in front of both packs. His father had changed there and then, something Derek and the other young members of the pack had never seen before, and told the Herveaux Pack to leave and never come back, for sharing such a sacred ceremony with the children of both families. Even now, Derek could remember the words the older man had gruffly spoken to the sobbing woman in front of him, remembered clearly the way the older pack members had gasped at his words.

Derek instantly knew what he had to do.

"Can you carry him out to my car?" Derek directed the question to all of them, but wasn't surprised when Boyd reached down and roughly threw Peter over his shoulder.

Peter was deposited on the back seat within minutes and Erica made a move to get into the passenger seat.

"No, I have to do this alone." He expected her to argue but she just nodded and slunk back in line between the two boys.

He was instantly glad that Sheriff Stillinski hadn't used the old cliche "Don't leave town", because, as he pulled out of his driveway, he knew he would have had to break that promise. He got out onto the highway and drove and drove through the night, occasionally glancing into the back seat. He was surprised Peter hadn't woken up yet, but, then again, three angry teenage werewolves could be... unpredictable, and from the rip on Erica's dress, he suspected Isaac and Boyd's strong protection instincts had kicked in. The mess that had once been Peter's handsome face was still fast asleep and Derek was thankful - It made the whole thing easier. He had no clue where he was when he first heard Peter stir slightly, a soft groan eminating from the back of the car. He hadn't seen a car or anything else for miles, and he wasn't sure how long he had been driving, but the faint pink tinge of the sunrise was starting to blur out from the dark horizon. As Peter moaned again, he decided he had gone far enough and pulled over on the side of the road, thick dense woods lining the highway. He turned around in his seat.

"Wake up," he growled at him.

Peter's eyelids immediately flickered open, his eyes widening when he saw Derek leaning over him.

"Get out of the car," Derek said, getting out of the car and waiting patiently for Peter to join him. He slowly sat himself up and managed to push the door open and stumble to stand uneasily in front of Derek.

Derek glared at him. He had almost expected to see regret or shame in the man's eyes, but he saw only fear. He wasn't sorry for what he had done. He was thinking only of himself and what his punishment would be. Derek brought his hand up and Peter flinched for a moment, before Derek's hand came to rest on his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes at him and put pressure on his shoulder, pushing him down to his knees. Peter dropped obediently, looking up at him with wide eyes. Derek cleared his throat and tried to summon his most commanding voice.

He thought back to that day years ago, when he had nearly lost his sister to the brutish Herveaux Pack, recalling the agressive werewolf's words.

"Peter Hale, I abjure you." Peter's eyes widened when he realised what Derek was doing. "I see you no longer. I hunt with you no longer."

Derek fixed him with a steely look when Peter opened his mouth to speak. Peter closed his mouth and lowered his head, submissively. He knew there was nothing he could say. Nothing he could do. It was done. And could not be undone. Derek silently got back into his car, and drove away, sparing one last glance at Peter as he turned the car around to head back home. The man was still on his knees, his head cast down, sillhouetted against the soft orange glow from the steadily climbing sun. Derek turned the corner and he was gone.

It took Derek most of the day to make the journey home, deciding it made sense to respect the speed limits now it was daytime. The drive felt like it took days, as he was alone with his grief for the long journey back. Peter may have been a psychopath, but he was the last trace of family that Derek had and he knew that he would never see him again now. Peter would be physically unable to come anywhere near him again, and, as much anger as he had towards the man, it was hard to think that he had thrown his family away for the last time. He allowed himself the whole drive back to mourn the loss of his family all over again, and then he would never spare Peter another thought. He didn't deserve it.

When he got home, his pack was still there, making themselves at home. He had expected nothing less. They all turned to stare at him as he walked through the door. It was clear from the fact that Erica was wearing a pair of his sweatpants and a huge grey T shirt that they hadn't been home since he'd left. He looked her up and down pointedly.

"What?" She said, glancing down at herself and remembering she was wearing his clothes. She looked a little sheepish.

"You look different." It was true. She looked like she had that first day he had met her, before he had turned her. Her face was scrubbed clean from all the garish make up she usually wore and little bare feet poked out of the huge sweatpants as she padded over to him.

"Yeah? Well, someone once told me I looked like a streetwalker, so I thought I'd borrow something in case I offended you again." She smirked up at him, before flopping down between Isaac and Boyd on the couch.

None of them asked him what he had done to Peter and he was thankful for that. He wasn't sure he had the words to make them understand the gravity of what he had just done. Erica bit her lip as they all looked at each other, feeling a little uneasy. Though they hadn't asked, Derek felt compelled to say something.

"Peter's gone. He wont be coming back." He said, his words rushing out. He felt a wave a relief coming off all them insantly and they all seemed to relax, leaning in closer to each other. He couldn't decide whether it was natural pack mentality that had them sandwiched together or the usual teenage hormones. He decided maybe a combination of both and he dropped down lightly next to Isaac, revelling for a moment in their closeness on the fairly small couch.

Isaac handed Derek a controller, somehow keeping his arm wrapped round Erica's shoulders.

"Wanna play Halo?"

* * *

**Yeah, so I "borrowed" Alcide, the Herveaux Pack and the concept of being abjhured from True Blood. I wanted something permanent but I didn't want Derek to have to kill him, and I suddenly realised True Blood had already constructed the perfect concept for me. I hope it makes sense, even if you don't watch True Blood. Basically Alcide is this super hot guy and the Herveaux Pack is pretty trashy and pretty wild - they all look like sluts and hicks, and they drink and fight and stuff, and being abjhured is like, the biggest deal ever. In the werewolf hierarchy, it basically means you're done with someone - They're dead to you. It feels slightly like an anti-climax, but I couldn't just have Derek kill him. Derek's a changed man these days!**

**Also, I saw someone else (possibly multiple people?) use John as Sheriff Stillinski's first name and I thought it suited him. I don't think his first name's been mentioned in the show, (I could be wrong. I often am.) so I'm going with John. I like it. Also, I kind of love him! Might have to write more of the lovely "John" Stillinski cause he's just adorable! **

**Anyhoo, the fact the smug officer brings out is actually true. If you're over 18 and you have sex with someone under 18, it's a misdeameanor, unless you're more than 3 years older than them, in which case it's technically a felony. There's a fun dinner party fact you can bring out whenever you want now!**

**(Last thing - I watched The Immortals last night because Daniel Sharman is in it and, as I plan to make him my husband (obviously!), I thought I needed to give it a go. Big mistake! 1hr47mins of my life that I'm never getting back. Yes, he had no shirt on, but he was also wearing the most absurd headgear I had ever seen, and - SPOILER ALERT - he's in like, 3 scenes and then dies about 45 mins in! So disappointing! Have any of the cast been in anything remotely worth watching? It seems to be exclusively awful so far!)**

**xxx**


	16. Reunion

Throughout the course of the day, the events of the police station eventually filtered through to Boyd, Erica and Isaac. Though the town didn't know the details, little was safe from their werewolf hearing, especially when they made it their business to know something, and they quickly ascertained that Derek was possibly in trouble and that he had been told not to go near the hospital. They didn't let him know that they knew any of this, but their lack of questions somewhat gave them away. He knew they were taking shifts staying with him, keeping him company and he also knew from the smell of disinfectant and the faint smell of Lydia that they were visiting the hospital, keeping an eye on her. Being a man of few words, Derek couldn't convey how much it meant to him, so he would occasionally pat one of the boys on the shoulder, or ruffle Erica's hair affectionately, eliciting a squeal of annoyance from the girl.

Him and Isaac were hanging out that next afternoon, Derek idly staring out of the window, wondering if Stiles would ever come by, Isaac humming along absentmindedly to something dreadful on MTV when Erica came bursting in. She didn't bother knocking anymore.

"Derek!" She said breathlessly. " It's Lydia!"

His heart stopped for a second. Or at least, that's what it felt like. The blood drained out of his face, as he feared the worst.

"Her mom came by with flowers, ones she said grew outside of Lydia's window. She showed them to me and I felt like I was going to faint. They smelt like... " Her eyes frantically searched for the words. "Like, burning or poison or something. They smelt wrong. I had to get away from them, but I listened from outside. She took them into Lydia's room and... She... I don't know, Derek!" She looked panicked, as Derek recognised the smell she had described.

"Purple flowers?" He asked, quietly. She nodded, still breathing hard from running all the way from the hospital.

"Wolfsbane." He murmured.

"What happened to her?" Isaac asked, his eyes flitting nervously between Derek and Erica.

"She freaked out." Erica said, uselessly, sounding every bit the teenager she was. "Her heart monitor went crazy and... it was so loud and everyone was shouting and her mother was crying. All I could smell was pain. She was in so much pain. And then... she wasn't."

"Did she...? Is she dead?" Isaac whispered.

"No. The doctor there, I heard him talking. He said they'd put her in a coma, but.. It sounded bad. They didn't know what was wrong with her."

"Derek?" Isaac looked up at Derek who was staring out the window, looking tortured.

"Why did she react that way? Did Peter turn her? Is she one of us now?"

"I thought she was immune? I knew he bit her but... I didn't think she could turn?" The pair of them bombarded them with questions and Derek squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block them out.

"I gave her my blood." He said, his face burning. He didn't need to tell them what an intimate act that was. One of their first "werewolf lessons" had been about their ability to heal and the power of their blood. They all knew that their blood was sacred. It had the ability to heal others in extreme situations but never humans - No matter how bad things were, you never gave your blood to a human unless you were willing to turn them, to be with them for the rest of your lives.

"Oh," Erica breathed. Her and Isaac exchanged awkward glances, not really sure what this new revelation meant about Lydia.

"My blood must still be in her system, and that's why she reacted so badly to the wolfsbane." He spoke through gritted teeth, obviously furious with himself.

"Derek, stop." Erica was suddenly right behind him, her hand against his back. "How could you know her mother would bring her wolfsbane?"

Her hand moved in small circles and her voice was soft and reassuring. He was reminded of his mother when she had had to comfort the younger children in the family.

"Did you save her? Did giving her your blood save her?"

"Yes." He spoke uncertainly. He knew he had saved her life then, but if they hadn't taken the wolfsbane away from her, she could still be in danger. And it was all because of him. Because he had tainted her with his blood.

"Well, then. Stop brooding. Isaac?" She called over her shoulder. "Go to the hospital. Go and make sure she's alright before Derek throws himself out of the window."

"Wouldn't want that. Where would we hang out?" He quipped, before jumping up and obediently taking off for the hospital.

They were mocking him and he should have been angry, but all he could think about was Lydia. He knew the pain of wolfsbane. The hot, burning agony was burned into his memory for all of time, and the thought of her going through that because of him was unbearable. He knew they could never understand. If Erica had thought the smell from a few metres away was bad, she wouldn't be able to take being in the same room as it. His mind pictured the small hospital room, the flowers so close to her on the bedside table, the room filling with the overly pungent, floral spores. He forced the image away and tried to calm down.

* * *

The following three days were tense, as the three young betas walked on eggshells around him. Boyd had calmly had to stop him leaving the house on three separate occasions, when not knowing what was going on got too much and he decided to break his word and go to the hospital.

"Don't do this, man. Just askin' for trouble." He said, nodding solemnly at Derek to sit back in his chair. Derek complied, letting the trio take care of him like he was a child. He knew he was moping, acting like some lovesick teenager, but he couldn't help himself. His mind was full of the image of Lydia lying in that pool of blood and of Stiles' golden eyes looking up at him helplessly. He wanted to see him, wanted the familiarity of his scent and his overly touching nature, but he knew why he didn't come. He knew the boy would be glued to Lydia's bedside, and he didn't blame him - If he could see Lydia, lying pale and still and small in that hospital bed, he'd probably never leave her side either.

"Stiles asked about you today."

"What did you say?"

"That you looked like shit and spent all of your time staring out of the window."

Derek didn't have it in him to be angry at Erica's blunt honesty.

Three days ticked by and Derek began to think Lydia would never wake up, until, in the middle of the night, he heard his door slam open and hushed voices outside his bedroom door. He wasn't asleep though. Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured Lydia in that beautiful, ruined dress, and sleep had eluded him.

The door swung open and Boyd strolled in, Erica and Isaac cowering behind him. Derek knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"She's awake." That was all he needed to say to have Derek pulling on some clothes and heading to the door.

"You sure about this?" Boyd said, stepping in front of the door for a second.

Derek nodded tightly and the man stepped aside, all three of them watching as he retreated down the corridor.

* * *

He barely remembered the drive to the hospital, trusting his hands and feet to just get him there without engaging his brain too much. She was awake. That was all that mattered. There was a police car parked outside the hospital and Derek hesitated for a moment. Sheriff Stillinski had told him to stay away and here he was, showing up in the middle of the night. She was awake now though. Things were different. She could tell them... Tell them what? He wondered what she would do, what she would say. Would she tell the truth, just come out and tell them she made the whole thing up? He doubted that. Lydia was a bright girl, and by now, must know that it was not only his fate that hung in the balance. At the very least, Lydia wouldn't want to get Scott's mom in trouble._ Everyone_ loved her. Scanning the parking lot, he spied Stiles' beat up jeep and somehow, his mind was made up. He was out of the car, his feet leading him to the entrance before his brain could catch up. If Stiles was here, he'd have to go in. Everything would be fine. The two of them would have worked something out.

As he neared her room, he breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the familiar fast-paced chattering from Stiles, and then the frustrated voice of his father. He felt calmer already, just hearing their voices.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this?" John said, sounding exasperated.

"How the hell was I supposed to know what they were or weren't doing in the boudoir?! I mean, sure - If they'd asked me hold a video camera, I wouldn't have said no-"

"Stiles! Not helping!" Lydia hissed, and Derek smiled at the sound of her voice, despite the slightly disturbing conversation he was overhearing.

"So you're willing to go on record with this?" The Sheriff sighed, clearly deciding to ignore his son's quip.

"Yes, sir. He never touched me."

Derek decided that now would be as good a time as any to announce his presence and walked through the open door, smiling nervously as he saw Lydia, looking dishevelled but alive. The bruises that had covered her arms and throat had almost faded to nothing already. She was sitting up in the bed, the two Stillinski men standing either side of her, both of whom were staring at him awkwardly.

"Well, here he is. The man of the hour!" Stiles announced, dramatically.

"Lydia was just telling my dad about how you tried to protect her from the mugger. She said you were very brave. What a hero." Stiles batted his eyelashes and chuckled at Derek, who blushed beetroot red.

"Oh brother," John muttered. "Excuse my son. He has a flair for the dramatics."

Lydia was looking up at him cautiously, her eyes round and nervous.

"And hey! Congratulations! You're officially not a rapist!" John leaned over to smack Stiles on the back of the head, just as Lydia elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Ow! OW! Ok, double attack. Not cool. Really not cool." Stiles rubbed his head and ribs, dramatically.

"Like I said, flair for the dramatics!" The man looked awkwardly between Lydia and Derek.

"Um, I'd like to formally extend my apologies for the way my deputies treated you the other day. Lydia here's set the story straight about... all of that." John did not strike Derek as man who was comfortable talking about teenager's sex lives (_though who was?)_ and he blushed bright red, before clearing his throat awkwardly and moving to leave.

"Well, I leave you kids to it. I'm sure you've got a lot of catching up to do." He excused himself and left the room, leaving the three of them alone for the first time since the attack.

"What did you tell him?" Derek said, instantly wanting to take the words back. It made him sound like all he cared about was covering his ass, and he wasn't even sure he wanted to know, especially when Lydia's cheeks flushed pink. She went to speak, but Stiles interrupted her before she could start.

"She's painted you as some law-abiding, hopeless romantic." He supplied, a slight hint of jealousy creeping into his voice.

"Hardly! More like a pervert who's toeing the line," she scoffed, tossing her tangled waves out of her face.

She crossed her arms over her chest and for a second, the old, confident Lydia was back.

"I couldn't just come out and tell them I'd made it up. It's all such a mess." She sighed dramatically. "So I told them you were technically my boyfriend, but you wont actually touch me till I'm 18." She tried to keep her tone casual, like she wasn't bothered, but the wash of bright pink that coloured her cheeks gave her away.

"You're WAITING for her! How romantic!" Stiles gushed, mockingly and Lydia softened, grinning at them both.

"You mad?" She said softly, looking up at him shyly.

"No. Course not." He brushed her fears aside. How could she think he'd care? As long as she was ok, and he wasn't going to jail, he didn't care what she told people. "How are you feeling?"

He sat down on the other side of her and gently let his hand rest on top of hers. Both her and Stiles glanced down in shock at where her hand was covered by Derek's, and Stiles shifted slightly closer towards her. She felt a little smothered and shifted uncomfortably, the bed suddenly feeling very small with the two of them perched either side of her.

"I'm fine." Lydia let her hand turn slightly, interlacing her fingers with Derek's, and all three of them stared at their hands again. "Thanks to you. Stiles told me what you did."

"It was nothing," he lied.

She decided to let it go. She knew it had been more than nothing, but if he wanted to be humble, she would let him. Stiles cleared his throat pointedly, breaking the tension and smirking at her expectantly.

"Yes. And you!" She chuckled and grabbed his hand with her free one, winding her fingers around his. "Thank you." She added, sincerely, giving both of them a serious look.

Derek nodded gratefully at Stiles, and Stiles looked smug for a moment.

"I'm really the hero of the piece," said Stiles.

They all smiled at each other, and a comfortable silence settled upon them all, until they looked down and both men realised they were still holding hands with her.

Lydia sighed happily, finally feeling relaxed now that the two men she had come to trust so much were back, near her.

She didn't feel shocked when she saw Stiles' free hand slink across her body to find Derek's. Their hands entwined in front of her and she looked up to see them smiling at each other, their eyes locked. Stiles had proven he had no problem with touching, but she felt a slight moment of surprise when Derek let Stiles hold his hand, resting lightly against her stomach.

She started to feel a little uneasy as the two men continued to gaze at each other. She was used to them looking at **her** like that, but not each other.

Suddenly, Stiles had launched himself over her tiny body to pounce on Derek, crushing his mouth against his. Lydia swallowed a gasp of surprise, bracing herself for the violent reaction that she was sure was coming from Derek. Her mouth dropped open as she gazed up at Derek who released her hand, bringing his hands up to cup Stiles' face, kissing him back passionately.

"Um...?" Lydia wondered exactly what she had missed while she had been unconscious, as Derek pulled away from Stiles to glance down at her questioningly.

"What the hell?" She asked incredulously.

"What?" Derek flashed her a charming, flirty grin. "I said I wouldn't touch YOU. I didn't say anything about Stiles."

_"I_ turned eighteen last month," Stiles mocked, sticking his tongue out at Lydia childishly, before reaching to pull Derek's face back to his. They shifted, turning to face each other more fully, holding themselves up with hands dangerously close to Lydia but not quite touching her. She felt left out and she hated feeling left out, so she used the last bit of strength she had to push her body up, her face inches from the still-kissing faces of the two men above her. Her hand reached out before she knew what she was doing, and she clasped at Stiles' face, pulling it to her own and planting a chaste kiss before he brushed her off, turning his attention back to Derek. Letting out a shrill whine of frustration, she tried again, this time with Derek, who just tutted smugly at her and wrenched his face out of her hand.

"Sorry babe, no can do." _Babe?_ Since when did Derek call her babe?

"It's like a strip club! You can look, but you can't touch," Stiles babbled, breathlessly.

She sighed and flopped back down on the bed, frustrated. Stiles brought his knees under him, kneeling up to slowly trail his hand down the front of Derek's toned body, keeping his eyes trained on Lydia the whole time. He smiled darkly at her as she shuffled, irritated that she wasn't allowed to touch, while Stiles was letting his fingertips stroke up and down Derek's abs tantalisingly slowly.

_"If they asked me to hold a video camera, I wouldn't have said no..."_ A voice drifted over from the corner of the room. She felt like she'd heard the words before somewhere, but she couldn't quite place the voice. Derek and Stiles were kissing again, their lips fused together, and they shifted to obscure her view of the figure in the corner. Every time she tried to glance round them, they would move and she couldn't quite see who it was. Eventually, they broke apart, breathless and panting, revealing the figure in the corner as Peter Hale. Lydia knew she should fear him, but he just looked pathetic, small and frail and older than he really was, cowering in the corner of the room. His hands were loosely tied with a garland of tiny purple flowers and a small, old fashioned camcorder filled his bound hands. Derek and Stiles resumed their kissing and she tried to reach up again to touch them, finding that she couldn't move. Piles of the same purple flowers were laying all over her and her skin felt like it was on fire wherever they were touching her. She started to panic as the kissing above her grew even more intense and the men ignored her frantic struggling as she tried to push all the flowers away from her. Her breath caught in her throat, like there was a sudden weight pressing down on her and she looked down at her hands, terrified of the long sharp claws that now adorned her fingers. A deafening scream was ripped from her throat, sounding more like a roar in the silence of the darkened hospital room.

Lydia woke with a start, alone, in her own bed. Tears were streaming down her face and her heart was racing, her pulse pounding in her ears. Shaking her hands in front of her eyes, she could make out that they were normal. No claws. Only a chipped OPI manicure.

She could only remember pieces of the dream, but it was always the same thing - Sexy, dark, confusing. Every night since she'd been discharged from the hospital, she'd had the same sort of dreams. She couldn't quite call them nightmares, since she wasn't sure exactly what she felt during them. She wasn't always scared. She knew that. There were times that she'd woken up, drenched in sweat, her heart pounding from something quite different to fear, feeling crushing disappointment when she'd realised she was alone.

Lydia's brilliant mind knew this was more than just the manifestation of some teenage crush. It had to have something to do with the blood that Derek had given her. She wondered if any of him still coursed through her veins? Either way, there seemed to be some kind of lingering effect that she couldn't quite work out. Would she be having these dreams forever or would they wear off? She wasn't sure she could take much more of this. She spent her days yawning and losing herself in the dark recesses of her imagination. Even if this was werewolf blood related, it didn't explain the co-starring role that Stiles had in her fantasies, but she chose to ignore that. Best not to open that can of worms. She knew she should call Derek, check if this was normal, but what would she say? _"Hey Derek. Thanks for saving me. By the way, I'm having super dirty dreams about you... And Stiles. Together. Is this cause of the blood thing?"_

She doubted he would even be able to answer any of her questions and the sheer embarrassment of having to explain it wouldn't be worth it, even if he could. She even considered calling Stiles, but she wasn't sure why. He wouldn't be able to help, but she craved the sound of his voice, though it pained her to admit it.

Her eyes drifted close again, wondering what confusing images her dreams would bring her this time...

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**I'm not gonna lie - I've run out of plot, so it's probably going to be a smut-fest from here on out. Plot and characters development and all that? Overrated, in my opinion.**

**In other news, this story is starting to wind down now, as I think you can tell. The major drama is out of the way, and barring some kind of sudden, dramatic brainwave that inspires a whole new direction, I'm going to start wrapping things up now. But don't panic! There's a few more chapters in this yet! Obviously, there's more story here, I just like to keep you updated in case you're expecting some 60 chapter epic and get bummed out. I'm just gonna let it wind down naturally and see what happens.**

**For my next fic, I kinda want Isaac to be a bigger part of it. Is Isaac/Lydia just TOO crazy? Or is it just crazy enough to work? Ruminate on that, dear readers.**

**xx**


	17. Ice Cream 20

**Sorry it's been so long since my last update. Mother's Day week was CRAZY at work and I just had no energy to do anything other than sleep! I didn't realise it had been so long though. Apologies. Won't happen again. Knuckled down and wrote three chapters in one go again, so I should be back to fairly speedy updates now. Enjoy!**

* * *

Lydia woke from another emotionally complicated dream in a cold sweat. Sunlight was streaming in and she knew she had slept late. School had ended for the year though, and, if you couldn't laze around during summer break, when could you? Especially when you nearly died a few days ago. You wouldn't know it though, from the way her mother was treating her. There was no mention of the incident, nor of anything really, as her mother treated her like someone who'd had an especially aggressive bout of flu. She was being brought hot tea and chicken soup up to her bed, like she was an invalid, and there had been no mention of the mugging or of Derek. Lydia could sense A Talk coming on, but was willing to play docile and child-like for now, if it made her mother happy to look after her. On the third day of daytime TV, she decided she couldn't watch another second of Jeremy Kyle USA. Today's fascinating headline - _"Help! I'm in a love triangle!"_ - was hitting just a little too close to home for Lydia's liking, and, after the second DNA paternity test match, breaking yet another heart, she clicked her television off with a frustrated sigh. She wanted to leave her house.

She was in front of her mirror, getting out her makeup before she knew where she was going. She just knew she wanted to be out of this house, out of this bedroom where she felt so alone. She appreciated everyone giving her space, but right now, that was the last thing she wanted. Lydia hated looking a mess. Usually, even when she was alone, her hair and make up were perfect, but for the last three days, she hadn't even looked in a mirror, and right now, the sight she was looking at was less than perfect. Dark circles were marring her pretty face and her hair was a matted red rat's nest. She resolved to end this today. This was not her, and as she slipped into the shower, she resolved to wash the last dregs of this pathetic, messy Lydia away. She was done being used and hurt. Lydia Martin was back.

Stepping out of the bathroom an hour later, she felt much more like herself. Her makeup was simple - bright, fresh skin, simply defined green eyes, and a dark pink lip stain that accentuated her full pout. Her hair had been kept fairly natural - washed, brushed and dried, it fell in natural soft waves around her face and smelled like raspberries as the curls wafted in front of her nose.

Lydia came to stand in front of her full length mirror. She had been avoiding it since she came home, but it was time to face it. The last time she had stood here, she had been twirling around in a dress she had thought was from Derek. Thinking back, how could she have been so stupid? Sending her a dress? As if that was his style! How could she even think a guy like him had been interested in some stupid high school girl like her. He had only ever hung out with her to save her from looking stupid in front of her classmates. If anything, he just pitied her. The thought made her stomach knot. There was nothing she hated more than pity. Even if people are being horrible about you, at least they're talking about you. Pity was for weak people, and Lydia was no longer weak. Peter was gone, and with him, her last weakness.

She recalled Derek stutteringly explaining "sending Peter away" in a faltering, uncertain voice. She had doubted him, fear evident in her voice as she questioned if he would come back to finish her off, recalling the relief she had felt when Derek had simply said "He wont be coming back. Ever." He had killed him. She was almost certain of that. She should find that frightening, but instead she found the thought strangely thrilling. Peter had been such a big part of her life for so long, even after he had been resurrected and was technically not in her head anymore, she could still feel him there, silently criticising her every move, influencing every decision she made. Only after the attack, when she woke up in the hospital, could she not feel his presence in her mind anymore. She concluded he must be dead, and, instead of judging Derek for his actions, she resolved never to speak of it again. Though Peter still featured in her dreams, his role was always minimal and, the more dreams she had, the more he seemed to be fading away, losing any remaining hold he had over her. She feared him no longer and, in each dream, he seemed to grow weaker and further away, eventually fading away to nothing more than a ghost who watched the trio's activities from afar. He was always shackled, that she knew, and it was a detail she always tried to focus on when she woke up, like her brain was telling her it was important somehow. Dreams are fickle things though, and the details always fell through her fingers like sand, and Peter's face was nothing more than an annoying blur in an otherwise perfect scenario that her brain had dreamed up.

Lydia could already feel the heat from the day burning in through her open window and chose a simple, strappy pink sundress in a flowery print. She'd bought it last month and hadn't had a chance to wear it before... Before everything. Settling back in front of the mirror, and applying another layer of lip stain, tinting her lips a slightly darker shade of berry-stained pink, she stepped back to look at her reflection. The ugly, puckered bite mark was all she could see reflected in the cold glass. It had already healed much quicker than she could ever explain, and she hoped Dr Shepherd would have the good sense to arrange a "check up" with himself and no-one else, since she was sure the rate of progression was fairly unnatural, thanks to Derek's supernatural influence. Her fingers crossed her body to trace the dark red furrows where Peter's teeth had bore into her. They were nowhere near as bad as they had been, and she was glad they had healed as fast as they had, but Lydia could not stop the vain streak that reared it's ugly head. She couldn't go out with such an ugly scar showing through the spaghetti straps, and decided on a lightweight, cropped turquoise cardigan, worn undone over her dress, simply to cover the mark that she refused to let define her.

Finally satisfied with her reflection, Lydia took a step back and realised she had no idea where she wanted to go. The thought of seeing Tiffany and the other girls was abhorrent. She had received a text message from her the day after her attack - _OMG! U n Derek gt attcked? Kerazy! U K?"_ - And she had replied with a simple "_Yeah. We're fine. Thanks x"_ before wiping simple little Tiffany from her mind for a while. She knew who she wanted to see, but... would he want to see her? She was just a stupid kid who had nearly gotten him arrested. Why would he have any interest in seeing her? Besides, she sort of wanted to talk, and she wasn't sure Derek was really the talking type. However, she knew someone who was. Someone who would be grateful to hear from her, and who she knew would be happy to drop everything to come and hang out with her. She instantly hated herself for thinking like that. Stiles was a good guy, a great guy, and didn't deserve to be led on by her. Lydia pondered in front of her mirror for a while, observing the emotions that crossed her face while she thought about Stiles. While she knew she definitely didn't deserve him, after everything she had put him through, she wondered if her feelings for him were purely platonic after all? I mean, she had... kissed him when she was drunk. Her heart knew it was a little bit more than just kissing, and a hazy memory of him lying on top of her in Derek's back seat flashed into her mind. She couldn't remember much of that night, but she remembered the way Stiles' hand had fisted hard in her hair and the thought of Derek being only mere inches away from them while they kissed. She hadn't forgotten he was there. In fact, every gasp and moan from that back seat had been made that much hotter knowing he could hear them. Sober, Lydia was no exhibitionist, but drunk Lydia had wanted Derek to know she was not some little girl - She was a woman. And Drunk Lydia hadn't exactly hated Stiles that night either. She had been almost sober by the time they got to his house, the contents of her stomach shamefully chundered up at the side of the road, and she'd felt Stiles press his body against her as he crawled into the warm bed behind her. Feeling Derek's eyes on her, she had reached for Stiles' hand and pressed it against her chest, not surprised when his fingers had curled to cup her through her dress. Somewhere, she felt the beginnings of something complicated, but her mind was still swimming in too much vodka and she had simply pressed his hand harder against her, and stretched, making sure her bare legs were visible to Derek before she fell asleep.

Dimly, casting her mind back to that first night they had spent together, she wondered if she had started this whole thing. She decided not to dwell on such things though, and retrieved her phone from her bedside table, making her mind up that Stiles was her best bet for company on such a lovely day. Pulling her curtains open and basking in the midday sunshine that streamed in, she waited anxiously for Stiles to pick up the phone.

"Yello'?" Stiles chirpily answered after a long wait, sounding somewhat distracted.

"Hey Stiles. It's Lydia." There was a pause, then a flurry of movement and hushed scuffling before he spoke again.

"Lydia? Lydia." He spoke her name twice, like he couldn't quite believe she was calling him. "How you doin'?"

"Um... Ok, I guess." She suddenly felt like this was a bad idea, as awkwardness bubbled under their conversation. "Thanks." She added hastily. A small silence settled between them, and Lydia was sure she could hear whispering on the other end of the phone. For a second, she considered just bidding him goodbye and going back to bed, leaving him to whoever he was with now, but a selfish part of her goaded her to go on. She realised she had no clue what she wanted to say. It sounded pathetic to just say "I missed you. I wanted to hear your voice" but it would have been the truth.

"I have to walk Prada." She announced suddenly.

"What?" Stiles laughed, clearly confused.

"My dog. Prada. I have to walk her."

"OK." Stiles said slowly. The silence hung between them again, before Stiles piped up. She had hoped beyond hope that he would offer to come over, his protective nature kicking in at the thought of her walking around by herself.

"Want me to come with you?" Lydia relaxed instantly. She should have known Stiles would step up, and her shoulders felt like a weight had been lifted off them.

There was a muffled murmuring at the other end of the phone, and she heard muffled voices talking without hearing what they were saying. She wondered who he was with, realising it was probably Scott and/or Allison. The thought made her heart hurt, as her former friends were now as lost to her as-

"Can Derek come?" Stiles interrupted her train of thought. Stiles was with Derek? Were they like, friends now?

"Um..." She wanted to say yes straight away but she was too nervous to give in that easily.

There's more muffled mumbling on the other side of the phone and Lydia's sure she heard a smother of hushed female laughter, her heart constricting at the sound.

"Erm... He says he'll bring the rocky road."

Lydia was shocked and blurted out "Ice cream?!" before Stiles is clearly repeating something he's just heard, laughter evident in his voice.

"Who doesn't like ice cream?!" He quotes at her, eliciting a giggle from Lydia.

A quarter of an hour later, and Lydia was waiting right by the door, Prada excitedly jumping around, already on her leash. The doorbell had Lydia on her feet straight away and she had to wait a second so as to seem less desperate. Unfortunately, a couple of seconds was all it took for her mother to put her book down and amble to the door.

Lydia hesitated, as her mother beamed at her, before swinging the door open.

"Hello! Stiles! Lovely to see you again!" Her mother beamed, kissing Stiles warmly on the cheek. Stiles looked awkward, but nowhere hear as awkward as Derek, who hung back, with a tray of slowly dripping ice cream cones in his hands.

"And Derek?! It's so wonderful to meet you! Come in, come in!" She ushered them inside, while Lydia quietly died of embarrassment. Both men greedily looked her up and down, taking in her newly rejuvenated look keenly.

"Mom, stop. We're going out," Lydia spoke up, trying to usher them both out of the door again.

"Ok, ok. I get it." Her mom was always trying to be "the cool mom" and Lydia couldn't help but roll her eyes at her.

"OK! You kids have fun!" She beamed at them, before lowering her tone and leaning in close to Derek, as if he was the only one who could hear her. "I just wanted to say, I'm so sorry about everything that happened after... what happened. I... didn't know... I didn't know that you and Lydia were..." _Didn't know you weren't sleeping with my daughter._ That was what she wanted to say, but, after witnessing Jackson sneaking in and out of the house for months and months, it wasn't surprising she had jumped to the wrong conclusion. Knowing how Jackson had treated her, all Mrs Martin wanted was a guy that would treat her daughter right. As she smiled at Derek, she couldn't help but notice the goofy grin that crossed Stiles' face aswell, while he gazed at her daughter. Though her heart told her this was dangerous, she realised that TWO men who seemed to be in love with her daughter seemed to be better than some douche who had broken Lydia's heart.

Finally, after an awkwardly long silence, Derek spoke up.

"Mrs Martin. It's so good to meet you properly. Can I offer you an ice cream?" Lydia felt a rush of pride towards Derek, as he turned on the legendary charm again. She noticed Stiles looking at Derek, his mouth hanging open and she was glad she wasn't the only one who was still shocked by the other, charming side of Derek.

"Ohh Derek, that is so sweet. I'm afraid I don't eat sugar, but it it such a sweet offer. Thank you!"

Derek beamed at her and Stiles flashed a bright grin at all of them, before Lydia stepped forward, in front of both men.

"As always, it's been a pleasure, Mother. But Prada's getting restless so.." She trailed off, gesturing towards the yapping, excitable little dog at the other end of the leash.

"Of course! Of course. Go! Have fun!" Her mother babbled excitedly, ushering them all out of the door. Only once they were all blinking in the bright sunshine, the door firmly close behind them, did Lydia let out a long sigh. They all stood in silence, broken only by Prada's soft, low growling. They all stared down at the dog, who had his tiny, sharp teeth bared at Derek.

"Prada! Stop that!" Lydia admonished, laughing awkwardly, as she cast her eyes up at Derek, who was looking at the tiny creature like he wanted to tear it apart.

Stiles' eyes flicked quickly between Lydia, Derek and Prada, before reaching down to scoop the little ball of fur up into his arms.

"Calm down, little buddy. Don't be scared of the big, bad sourwolf," he cooed, in a baby-voice, turning the dog in his arms to hold him up to Derek's face. Eye to eye with the suspicious-looking dog, Derek could not keep the look of disgust out of his eyes. Slowly bringing a hand up to his face, he pressed a finger to his lips and stared intently into the dog's eyes, making a small shushing sound. As his eyes flashed red for a split second, Prada instantly quieted and stuck her tongue out, now panting happily at Derek. Both Stiles and Lydia would have laughed at how ridiculous it was that Derek had just used his werewolf powers to shush a miniature chihuahua, but they were both staring at Derek, mouths open, confused at how hot he had looked while doing something so absurd.

Derek's eyes flicked up at them both, and they both looked away, embarrassed to be have been caught staring at him.

"Well, that was weird." Stiles laughed. Derek just shrugged back and handed Lydia an ice cream. She hated that her hand was trembling slightly as she reached out to take it, but took it with a slight smile of thanks, before nodding at them to start walking down the road. The sun was still beating down on them, and Lydia guessed that they'd bought the ice cream a little while ago as hers was little more than a creamy pile of goo in the cone, but Lydia didn't care. Derek was right. She DID love ice cream. She hungrily set about cleaning the sides of the cone, happily licking the drips of rocky road that were edging down to her fingers. Prada trotted along obediently beside her, pausing occasionally to lap at the drips of ice cream that Lydia missed, splashing onto the pavement. Lydia was busy licking up the last traces of rocky road from her fingers, closing her eyes as she sucked her fingers into her mouth, savouring the last little drips, when she realised how silently they had been walking. After three days of chicken soup and tea, she was so engrossed in her frozen snack that she wasn't aware of the awkward silence that had settled upon the trio. She opened her eyes, one finger still in her mouth to find both Stiles and Derek staring at her. Releasing her finger with a wet pop, she realised exactly what she had been doing and blushed bright red, as they both quickly averted their eyes.

"Holy God!" Stiles blurted out. He had never been one for being tactful, and his mouth was still hanging open as he gazed at her lips, hungrily. Derek however, just looked uncomfortable, shooting her lots of tiny, sideways glances, past the speechless Stiles.

"Sorry," she mumbled, shrugging and trying to smile at them.

"Don't apologise. Never apologise!" His words tumbled out as Lydia's face continued to heat under his gaze. She had always known Stiles had had a crush on her. She'd overheard enough of his sweet little comments over the years to know how he felt about her, but none of them had ever really been aimed at her. Till now. Clearly, he'd decided that after everything that had happened, there was no point keeping any of it secret now. She giggled slightly as Stiles continued babbling at her, never taking his eyes off her lips. It was almost impressive that he was managing to walk in a straight line, without so much as glancing at the pavement.

"You should eat ONLY ice cream from now on. In fact, we should get you more ice cream!" Lydia giggled again, feeling awkward but flattered, before noticing Derek scowling at them both.

He elbowed Stiles sharply in the ribs.

"Enough," his hissed and Stiles instantly quietened, shifting awkwardly as he realised he'd been making both of them uncomfortable.

Lydia pretended not to notice the abrupt shift in the atmosphere and focused her attention hard on little Prada as she galloped a few feet ahead of them, avoiding eye contact with both of them.

"So... You two were together when I called? You just hanging out or..?" Lydia let her words trail off, trying to pretend she was merely curious, instead of the confused fascination she was really feeling at the thought of them being friends.

"Yeah." Stiles said easily, oblivious to the confusion in her voice. "Epic Halo tournament." He grinned, first at Derek, then at Lydia who looked at him like he'd just told her they'd spent a spirited afternoon killing babies. She rearranged her face to cover her shock and turned her attention back to Prada.

"Oh. I didn't know you two were-"

"So good at Halo? Newsflash - he's not." He said in a stage whisper, earning a glare from Derek. "Erica totally kicked his ass at The Floodgate."

Oh? Erica? So you're all like, friends now?" Lydia said, uncertainly, glancing at them both. They looked away, also suddenly fascinated by Prada's quick, waddling steps.

"I mean... " Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, as if deep in thought. "Yeah. I mean, we are right?" He sounded uncertain and looked to Derek for confirmation, who avoided eye contact for a slightly longer than comfortable pause.

"Erica likes having you around," he said simply. Lydia's heart fell at what that could mean. Were Erica and Stiles A Thing now? Why should she care? She didn't even like him... So why did her heart hurt so much at the thought of the trashy blonde having her sights set on him?

"Bullshit!" Stiles erupted suddenly, laughing loudly. "Dude! You know I'm awesome! Don't act like it's only Erica who wants me there!"

He dropped his tone to again stage-whisper loudly to Lydia.

"He's such a liar. I'm the sunshine in his life." Lydia couldn't help but giggle, especially when Derek's jaw was set in a hard line, his teeth grinding together, because he knew Stiles was right.

"And besides, without me, who would make the grilled cheese sandwiches? Man cannot live on brooding alone. And coffee. Brooding and coffee. That's no diet for growing kids." He shook his head at him with mock-sincerity, and Derek finally cracked a small smile, which was gone as soon as it had arrived.

"Do you just play Halo?" Lydia asked, trying to wrap her head around Derek, Stiles and Erica sitting around, playing computer games like nerdy kids.

"Oh, no. The group's activities are many and varied." Stiles nodded solemnly, before laughing to himself. "Nah. I jest. We mainly just play Halo or watch TV. Isaac doesn't like the violence in Halo and god forbid if you try to make him miss Jersey Shore." He clapped a hand to his mouth and stopped dead, as if stricken with panic. His hand flew out to grab Derek's arm and the suddenness of his action made the still-on-edge Lydia jump.

"Oh god, Derek! The secret! The secret's out!" Derek rolled his eyes at him, as if he knew exactly what he was talking about and wasn't impressed. Stiles turned to Lydia with mock-seriousness, his eyes cast down as though ashamed. "Yes. It's true. Sometimes... me and Derek... we..." Lydia's mind flashed back to her dreams, and she wanted to supply the ridiculous answer of "make out sometimes?" but she knew that was absurd.

"Sometimes, we can't leave the room fast enough and... we watch Jersey Shore with Isaac!" He pretended to cry, throwing his head in his hands dramatically. "We didn't mean it to happen! It was going to be just a one time thing but then there was this little thing called Snooki and... It was SOOO good!"

Lydia burst out laughing before patting Stiles on the arm with mock sincerity.

"It's ok. This is a safe space. I'm not here to judge." She slunk past him, managing to manoeuvre the dog lead so none of them got tangled up in it, and settled in between them as they walked. She felt better like this - It had felt strange to be so far away from Derek, and, as she settled in next to him, their shoulders bumping slightly, she felt herself instantly relax a little. She pointed at him, shooting him a loaded look from under her lashes.

"You! _You_, I judge. I expect better from you." She expected Derek to ignore her words, but she was treated to one of his rare genuine smiles. It felt nice to include Derek in the banter. Sometimes Stiles could just talk so fast and so loud that you got swept up in it, and though she obviously hadn't forgotten Derek was there, she felt bad for leaving him out of their repartee.

"So you all hang out together? Huh." Lydia mused, thoughtfully. She couldn't quite picture it, couldn't figure out where Derek might live, couldn't picture him and a bunch of teenagers all lounging around together, watching trash TV.

"Yeah, I mean. We wanted to invite you but like, my dad said we should give you some space. Like, a room full of shouting werewolves? Thought that maybe you might get freaked out or something?" Stiles was acting shifty again, running his hand through his slightly-longer-than-a-buzzcut hair and averting his gaze.

"I wouldn't have got freaked out," Lydia said softly and both men looked stricken at how sad she sounded. She shook herself, feeling ridiculous for feeling so left out.

"I'm fine. No more breakdowns for me." She smiled a little too broadly at them and they both just looked guilty.

"That's what I said, but hey! Does anyone ever listen to Stiles? No. I said you'd kick all our asses at Halo. I think Boyd was just scared you'd beat him. I suspect alot of his attraction hinges on his Halo prowess."

"Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that." Lydia said, chuckling at his rambling again.

As they neared her house again, after walking the small circle around her block, they could tell that Prada's little legs were tiring, as she fell back, stopping and sitting quietly every now and again. Lydia stopped and patiently waited for the little dog to get up again, clearly someone who let their pet call the shots. Eventually Derek got tired of it all and reached down to scoop her up in his arms, sighing heavily when a little pink tongue darted out to excitedly lick his face. Perhaps a little _too much _werewolf mojo, Lydia thought to herself, as Prada yapped happily in Derek's ear, trying to reach up and lick him as they neared the final stretch to Lydia's house.

The trio turned to face each other as they reached the bottom of Lydia's drive, Derek handing the docile dog back to Lydia, both of them ignoring the way their fingers brushed together as they made the switch.

"Well, thanks for coming with me. It's good to get out of the house." Derek nodded tersely at her and Stiles beamed like an excited puppy.

"No problem. Anytime." He turned his attention to the tired dog in her arms. "Bye bye Prada." He baby-talked the dog and even Lydia rolled her eyes this time, giggling at him.

As he leaned in to pet Prada goodbye, Lydia instinctively leaned in and planted a tiny kiss on his cheek. It had just felt right, with him leaned in towards her, but they both froze, Stiles looking up at her with wide eyes.

"Jeez. I'll have to help you walk your dog more often!" He joked, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks. Lydia's embarrassment at her natural instinct to peck him was instantly replaced with being overwhelmed by how cute Stiles' reaction was.

"That had better be a promise." She was flirting... Over dog-walking. Only a pro flirter could make dog walking seem remotely alluring. She mentally patted herself on the back, as Stiles smiled broadly at her. Derek cleared his throat loudly, breaking the moment between the two of them.

"Lydia. Could I have a word?" Lydia gulped and nodded, suddenly feeling like a kid at school who'd got caught doing something naughty. He nodded his head up the drive to her house. "I'll walk you in." Lydia knew he was effectively dismissing Stiles, and suddenly felt very tense. Surely he wasn't angry because she'd flirted with Stiles? Why should he care? Or maybe it was nothing to do with that. Just weird timing? Either way, she flashed Stiles a tight smile and a small "Bye Stiles" before obediently trotting up the path after Derek. She felt Stiles' eyes on them as the walked up her steep drive, but then heard his footsteps as he slowly walked down the road. She wondered if he was as confused as she was by the sudden shift in atmosphere.

They reached her door and Lydia turned to face him, staring up at him defiantly. If he had something to say, he could just come out and say it.

"Well?" She said, raising her eyebrows at him and tapping her foot impatiently. He looked torn, like he wasn't quite sure exactly what he wanted to say.

"I... I wanted to make sure you're ok." He said finally. She looked down at herself pointedly, wanting to point out how damn good she was looking today.

"Yeah. I'm ok," she said, glancing back up at him and offering up her palms as if to say _"look at me!"_

"I mean... really ok?" He was avoiding eye contact with her and she realised he was staring at the shoulder of her little cardigan, where he knew her wound was hiding.

She nodded slightly and he made a move like he was going to walk away, but spun round suddenly, making Lydia jump a little.

"I didn't know what giving you my blood would do to you," he announced suddenly, his eyes darting all over the place. Lydia's mind flashed to her dreams, little pieces of them rushing back to her and her cheeks coloured. Did he know? Did he somehow know the profound effect his blood had had on her? She decided it was best not to say anything until she knew what he was talking about.

"Did it...? Has anything happened?"

Lydia shook her head, mutely, and he stared at her curiously. She breathed a silent sigh of relief that he didn't know about the dreams, but the way he was staring at her made her feel like he was reading her mind all the same.

"Nothing at all? No side effects?" He cocked his head to the side and she felt like she was being studied, pinned under his gaze. He clearly knew she wasn't quite telling the truth, but she wasn't really sure what to say to him.

"I... I had a few nightmares." She cast her eyes down, avoiding the way his eyes narrowed suspiciously at her words. When she managed to drag her eyes back up to his face, his eyes were fixed on her chest. She crossed her arms across herself, feeling indignant before she realised he must have been listening to her heartbeat, not just perving on her lowcut neckline. He didn't seem at all embarrassed at having been caught staring, instead just flashing her a quick, half smile. If he heard that she was lying, he chose not to say anything. She wasn't really lying, after all. It was more of a half truth. The dreams had been scary at first, then just slightly disturbing, and now that Peter had faded away to nothing, Lydia almost looked forward to lying down and closing her eyes, wondering what fantasy would be entertaining her tonight.

"But I'm fine," she added, quickly. "I don't know if they're anything to do with your- the blood thing or more to do with the fact that I was attacked, bitten and nearly bled to death. I think even the most stable person would have a nightmare or two after that, and I wasn't exactly all there to start with." She meant for her words to come out playful, but he just looked sad as her words petered out.

A silence settled between them and Lydia realised that Derek seemed to have said all he was going to say. His mouth had settled into a hard line and his brows were furrowed with.. confusion, anger, worry? Lydia couldn't tell, but she longed for the light-hearted chatter the three of them had shared only minutes ago.

"Anyway, don't worry about me. I'll let you get back to your little game or whatever it is that you all do." She spoke the words with a slight air of scorn, still secretly feeling a little hurt that Stiles had been accepted into the pack without question while she was still lingering on the sidelines. It was like last year all over again. Lydia sighed at the familiar feeling of being left out. She flipped her hair at him, the scent of rasberries filling his nose for a second as she turned away to flounce back into her house. His hand shot out to grasp at her arm, not hard, but firm enough to stop her in place and flick her head back to him.

"You're always welcome too, you know," he said sincerely, looking deep into her wide, surprised eyes. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a crumpled up receipt and a pen. He was just full of surprises. Lydia prided herself on always being prepared, but even she didn't walk around with a pen in her pocket at all times. Before she could wonder what Derek was doing, he had scribbled something on the back of the Baskin Robbins receipt and was pressing the creased piece of paper into her hand. "This is the address. There's pretty much always someone there so just drop in whenever you want." Lydia stared up at the shifty look Derek was giving her. You'd think him writing his address down for her was a proposal of marriage, the way he was acting. "You know, if you want to, that is."

Without another word, Derek turned and stalked away and Lydia could only watch his retreating form in shock. She had no idea why he had been so awkward around her, but she was guessing that being invited to his place was a big deal if you weren't a wolf. Or Stiles. But then again, Stiles had probably invited himself there, so that didn't really count. If she was being invited round, then maybe he didn't just think she was some stupid kid? Perhaps it wasn't just pity that drove his behaviour towards her, perhaps they really were friends now? She smiled at the thought, since he was already, technically supposed to be her boyfriend. _Maybe one day he would be?_ That little voice in her head had popped up again, the one that always said the things she wasn't sure she wanted to face. She was being ridiculous. Just because Derek had saved her life, didn't mean he was going to fall madly in love with her. Besides, there was Stiles to think about. He'd be crushed and, though she'd never used to care what Stiles felt, now, she couldn't bear the thought of breaking his heart. _Because you want him too,_ the little voice said. As Derek turned the corner and walked out of sight, Lydia mulled over her afternoon, turning to enter the house. Honestly, she wasn't sure what she wanted. All she knew right now, is that she couldn't wait to go to sleep tonight.

* * *

**The End.**

**Ha! Bazinga! Got you again. No, for realz, could you imagine if I ended it there? And denied you all the smut? Lordy. That would be horrendous!**

**I hope the term "chundered up" isn't too British for everyone. I want to believe it's crossed the pond and entered the U.S vocabularly, though I somehow doubt it. It's a good word though. Everyone start using it. **

**Also, I have never played Halo in my life. All of my info comes from briefly watching my ex-boyfriend play it for one INCREDIBLY dull afternoon, and seeing them play it on the Big Bang Theory. I literally just googled it to find the name of one of the levels - Floodgate - and went with it. If that's totally out of context to the game, I apologise. I just wasn't committed enough to research it anymore.**

**Also, the lovely RKOQueen2010 is writing a Teen Wolf/True Blood crossover fic that you all NEED to check out. I'm really excited about where it's heading, so I deffo recommend checking it out - Hot wolves vs. hot vamps? And then Stiles and Lydia are also there... What's not to like?**

**As always, reviews and such like are amazing. I love them. I know it's... I dunno.. not-so-interesting at the moment? I just don't wanna rush it, and I know the middle of a slow-burning fic like this can drag a little bit, so I really wanna thank you guys for sticking with me and reading all this boring plot stuff. Trust me. Things WILL get dirty eventually. ;) I'm two chapters ahead, and I'm really excited about the chapter I've just written! Finally... something's kinda starting to happen. Yay! So bear with me, dear readers. And let me know your thoughts. I really do care! **

**xxx**


	18. Scenting

Isaac paused in the doorway to Derek's apartment, doing his cursory sweep of the apartment. His spidey senses heard a tiny scuffle of movement from the kitchen and he inhaled deeply, recognising Derek's unique scent mingling with freshly brewing coffee. Something else caught his nose, something sweet and fruity, like raspberries, and Isaac frowned slightly. He'd never seen Derek eat fruit before, and the thought of him relaxing with a coffee and a bowl of raspberries seemed very strange. He brushed it off though. Derek had always been an enigma.

This apartment was one of the only places Isaac felt comfortable these days and he found himself spending more and more time there. He spent more time sleeping on Derek's sofa than at Boyd's house and, since Derek's place was nearer to the large wooded area just outside of the town, he often found himself there after he'd been for a run. Today, he'd run as a human, something he was learning to enjoy, under Derek's guidance. At first, the feeling of his heartrate soaring and the adrenaline pumping through his veins had been enough to send him into full-on wolf mode, the forest blurring away to red, his only thought to run and run and never come back. But, with Derek's guidance, he had learned the joy of control - Of channelling all of his feelings into running and maintaining his humanity. It was sad that it took being turned into a werewolf to truly understand the simple joys of being human. Unfortunately, the combined effort of running as a human, and focusing on regaining control resulted in a very human sheen of sweat that was making his shirt stick to him. Thankfully, Derek never bothered locking his door anymore (His reasoning being that if anyone broke in, they'd be in more danger than he would, and that he had nothing besides his coffee maker worth stealing) and Isaac had taken to showering at Derek's after his runs.

He didn't bother announcing his presence, since Derek would have already heard him come in, and just strolled casually into the apartment, heading straight to the bathroom. He pulled his shirt over his head, already eager to step under the icy cold jets of Derek's permanently freezing shower, and tossed the plain grey T shirt to the ground. Fixated on the thought of the cold water cooling his overheated skin, he didn't even bother looking into the slightly open kitchen door, instead just heading straight the the bathroom. He paused just outside the door, the scent of Derek stronger here, now he was closer to the kitchen where he could still hear soft scuffling sounds. Sighing, he realised how rude it was to just stroll into someone's house without even saying hello, and throwing your shirt on their hallway floor was just adding insult to injury. He turned and started sauntering back to where his shirt lay discarded, snatching it up and leaning forward to push the kitchen door a little further open to peer in.

"Hey-" He started to say, but froze in his tracks when the door swung open to reveal Lydia Martin, her mouth hanging open in shock, a coffee pot held high in the air like a weapon.

For a moment, neither of them said anything, both of them just staring at each other with wide, startled eyes. His eyes flicked to the coffee pot that she was still brandishing like she was planning on bludgeoning him to death with it. Feeling his eyes settle on it, she lowered her hand slowly, setting it back on the counter top. Now it was her turn to let her eyes roam, flicking down to his torso, her eyes widening even more. He realised she was taking in his scars, most of which had faded since his transformation. Even werewolf abilities couldn't heal the worst of them though, and a few faded reminders of his childhood remained - The cigarette burn from when he'd gotten a D in History, the thin scar from when he'd burnt the lasagne, the lash marks from a belt just because it had been a tuesday and his dad had been drinking. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze and fingered the T shirt that he was wringing awkwardly in his hands.

"Think I'll just put this back on."

"Good plan," she nodded, finally averting her eyes to stare down at her feet, smiling stiffly at her shoes.

Isaac couldn't turn his shirt the right way in fast enough, and his hands fumbled to find the neck hole, but eventually he was clothed again and felt slightly less ill at ease in the strawberry blonde's presence. He chuckled self-consciously and she returned his smile uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd be here. Derek didn't mention-"

"He told me I could let myself in." She sounded defiant, like she thought he was accusing her of breaking in.

"Oh yeah, yeah. We all do it. I just didn't know... you would be here." He repeated, uselessly.

"Well, there was no-one here and I walked here and I didn't want to come all this way and just go home again so I... I thought I'd wait for... someone to get here. I guess I should have called first..." She trailed off, suddenly sounding uncertain.

Isaac took a step forward instinctively, his palms outstretched.

"No no! It's fine. We all do it." He said, in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. He was rewarded with a soft, hesitant smile and some of the tension visibly leaving her body.

"He'll probably be home soon... if you wanna wait for a bit? Hang out?" He felt the familiar rush of nervousness creep in as he asked Lydia to stay. He flashed back to freshman year, which felt like half a lifetime ago, when she'd laughed in his face. They were such different people now. A year ago, he never would have thought he would be casually asking Lydia Martin if she wanted to "hang out" with him. His heart sank as she glanced dubiously at the door, like she was planning her escape.

"I don't want to play Halo," she said, and she sounded so genuinely sad that Isaac couldn't help but laugh at her.

"Good! Me neither," he replied, as she smiled warmly back at him.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, and with some awful vampire show blaring away, Isaac finally felt himself start to relax. He swiftly realised that the girl he thought he knew was nothing like the girl who was sitting next to him, casually correcting the incorrect Latin incantation being spoken by one of the characters. Isaac couldn't help but keep glancing at her face as she watched the television. He'd rarely seen her without a scowl, a smug smile or a haughty look of derision plastered on her face while they were at school, but her face was completely relaxed now as she immersed herself in a show that Isaac knew she should have been much too smart to enjoy. She kept sighing indignantly and tutting, like she was annoyed by all the inaccuracies that she kept correcting, but he could tell from the quirk of her lips when the two main characters kissed that she secretly loved it.

It was only after he allowed himself to relax in her company that Isaac realised that Lydia Martin did not smell like Lydia Martin. He knew her particular scent from before the attack, and during her time in hospital, the smell of disinfectant had been too strong to really get much of a handle on her. Now, Isaac realised with a start that the smell of Taylor Swift's Wonderstruck, and the indescribable smell of her human blood coursing through her veins was gone, replaced with a near identical smell to the one of his Alpha. Only the slight smell of raspberries that wafted over to him every time she tossed her curls out of her face was different, a reminder of the sweetness that her scent used to be. She was obviously missing the vague woody smell of Derek's aftershave and the warm smell of leather that seemed to cling to Derek's skin, but the fundamental smell, the one that pulses under a person's skin, was the same. Isaac found himself staring at her, the one-sided vampire conversation all dried up, and the TV commercials losing both their interest. She shifted uncomfortably, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, then focusing her attention back on the commercials like they were the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen. He tried to turn his attention back to the TV, realising he was making her uncomfortable, but he couldn't help his eyes wandering back over to her. The longer he was with her, the more the smell of her drew him in. The heady mix of Derek and her inherent sweetness was intoxicating and he found himself shifting slightly closer towards her, feeling more and more comfortable sitting so close to her. It wasn't just that she smelt like raspberries or like Derek - It was that she smelt like pack. She smelt like home. Something in his head was telling him this wasn't right. She shouldn't smell so _right_. There was no logical explanation, but he couldn't help but lean in close to her, his mind not registering the way she slunk back, further into the couch cushions. He felt his eyes flash golden, and couldn't even remember where he was or what he was doing. He just wanted to be as close to this smell as he could.

"Isaac...?" Her voice was wavering and unsure, and she sounded far away, as he leaned right into her, pushing her back into the arm of the chair, pinning her with his body.

"What are you-" She was cut off as he suddenly pushed his nose against the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply. She was frozen in place, pinned almost horizontally as Isaac leaned against her, his face nuzzling against her throat. She brought her hands up to rest against his chest, not quite pushing him away, but keeping him from completely putting his weight on her. She wasn't sure why she wasn't just freaking out. She'd barely said two words to Isaac Lahey and now here he was, pretty much lying on top of her, pushing his face against the column of her throat. Somehow, instinctively, she knew this was nothing to do with sex though. This was something different entirely. For some reason, she felt safe with Isaac. It was the same feeling she felt whenever she was around Derek, though Derek had never let her get close enough to experience it quite this much. However wrong her brain was telling her it was, she couldn't help but think it felt right somehow, safe and comfortable, like coming in from the cold to sit by a roaring fire. From the golden flashing of his eyes, she knew he was struggling with control and while she knew he'd never hurt her, she also knew better than to try and get him to stop if there was some sort of wolfy reason for his behaviour. He pushed at her neck with the tip of his nose and she raised her chin a little. His soft golden curls tickled under her chin and she couldn't stop the giggle that sprung forth, loudly echoing in the small room. He froze suddenly, as if the sudden sound had woken him from a dream, and he pulled back instantly, staring into her eyes like he didn't quite recognise her. She tried to give him a reassuring look, to tell him that whatever had just happened was ok, but he looked down at the position they were both in and looked horrified. He was still looming over her, pinning her against the cushions, and her hands were resting on his chest, keeping him at arm's length. They locked eyes and she opened her mouth to speak, though she wasn't sure what she should say to try and make the broken look in Isaac's eyes disappear.

"Holy shit!"

Isaac and Lydia both turned their heads, startled, to see Stiles standing in the doorway, his mouth hanging open. They froze, realising how incredibly bad their current position looked, but too shocked to try and move out of it, even when heavy footsteps came thudding along the corridor after Stiles.

"Can I get some help?" Derek's voice boomed out along the small hallway outside the apartment, and Stiles' eyes flicked sideways fearfully to where Derek was still out of sight, and then back to the couch. Lydia regained just enough of her senses to push Isaac up with all her might, just as Derek shuffled into view next to Stiles, loaded with grocery bags and a couple of pizza boxes. His eyes widened as he just about caught Lydia suddenly shoving Isaac off her and the grocery bags hit the floor at the same time as Isaac did, landing clumsily in a heap next to the couch.

His eyes flashed red and his whole body tensed like he was about to launch himself at Isaac, before Stiles stepped in front of him, blocking his view of Lydia squirming uncomfortably and Isaac peeking up with scared eyes from behind the coffee table.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop." Stiles said calmly. Lydia knew it was a bad day when Stiles had become the voice of reason. Derek narrowed his eyes and growled, craning his neck to get a better look at the frightened looking pair.

"Get out." Derek growled the words, his eyes flashing red and his fangs bared at them.

Stiles turned around fully now, his palms outstretched in a mock surrender pose, turning his attention fully to Derek.

"Look, just calm down ok? Let's all sit down, have some pizza and talk this out-"

"No." Derek ground the word out and Stiles sighed, worried he was fighting a losing battle. He knew Derek would never really hurt anyone, but him and Lydia were still human and comparatively fragile, and he wanted to avoid them being in the same room as two warring werewolves. He changed tack, still bobbing around in front of Derek, trying to get him to tear his eyes away from the living room and focus on him. He felt sure that if he could just get him to look at him, he could focus and calm down and they could iron out whatever the hell was going on here.

"Come on, Derek. I'm sure Isaac was just-"

"Not him." Derek interrupted him again, and Stiles cocked his head in confusion. "Her." He spat the word out with contempt and Stiles whirled round to follow Derek's glare to where it was fixed, right on Lydia's heated face. Her bottom lip wobbled as she realised the full force of his anger seemed to be trained on her. "Get. Out!" He ground the words out through gritted teeth and they were all silent for a moment, before Lydia slowly rose from her seat, smoothing down her dress as she got up and grabbed her purse, avoiding eye contact with all of them. She stuck her chin high in the air and pretended she couldn't feel the rush of blood that she knew was colouring her cheeks. Only when Stiles moved to step in her path did she lower her eyes to lock with his, fixing him with an icy stare.

"Lydia..." He trailed off, turning helplessly to look behind him at Derek, as if he would change his mind. Derek was staring at her still, his features contorted with rage and anger. She regarded them both coolly, letting her eyes flicker slowly from one to the other, before side stepping past Stiles and sliding past the tiny space in the doorway next to Derek. She let her body brush against Derek's, determined to show him that she wasn't scared of him and wouldn't be intimidated into slinking past him like some frightened child, and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath as her hand skimmed his outer thigh. She made it all the way out of his apartment building and halfway down the road before the first tear silently slid from beneath her lashes. Fighting it for a second, she chose to give in to the tears, letting a breathy sob escape her as she stalked away from the house. It was not a moment of weakness, but a calculated move, as Lydia sniffled and sighed, knowing both Derek and Isaac would still be able to hear her. As the tears slid helplessly down her face, she pictured Derek with his eyes closed, listening to the sound of her sobs and she hoped he felt as awful as he had made her feel. He deserved to.

* * *

**Oh Derek! You silly goose! What are you doing, you crazy wolf? (Obviously, ****_I_**** know the answer to that. I'm kinda writing it!)**

**Also, Isaac and Lydia... I just full on ship that now! The more I think about it, the more I want it to happen. Don't worry though - he's just a little plot point in this story. I'm not suddenly gonna pull a massive twist where Stiles and Derek are left alone while Lydia chooses Isaac (though that ****_would_**** be kinda fun!). I just couldn't resist throwing a really awkward Isaac/Lydia moment in there.**

**Anyhoo, reviews are wonderful. Lemme know what you're thinking about the story, or any ideas you have or just say hi. I love hearing from all of you. **

**xxx**


	19. Stay

Derek was standing in the woods, staring up at Lydia's window, replaying the events of the afternoon and beating himself up. He thrust his hands in his pockets angrily, as if he was somehow angry at his pockets, as well as himself. He had jumped to a conclusion and was now back to the all-too-familiar feeling of self-loathing that he had adopted after the fire. It was a feeling he hadn't been feeling recently, as his pack made leaps and bounds, and new friendships seemed to blossom around him. He should have known that all too soon he'd do something to fuck it up. While anger was his anchor during the full moon, he also recognised it as one of his key weaknesses. It left him vulnerable at times, as his rage flooded him and left him unable to think clearly. He had been beyond reason this afternoon, and could feel his fragile hold on his control slipping away as he gazed upon Isaac pinning Lydia down, her hands on his chest, trying to defensively push him away. Though Isaac was hardly huge, still young and slight compared to his own muscular frame, she had looked so small underneath him, her red hair fanned out around her, her eyes wide and fearful as she gazed up at Derek.

His first instinct had been to pull Isaac away from her and tear him limb from limb, and he would have done, had Stiles not stepped in front of him, momentarily obscuring the tiny redhead from his vision. That one moment had been enough for Derek to regain a tiny shred of control, enough to know he wasn't seeing the full story, enough to realise that he couldn't be seeing what he thought he was seeing. He knew Isaac. He was not Peter. After years of abuse, he was particularly careful to respect people's personal space, even within the usually intimate bonds of the pack. Even when Erica would snuggle close to him and his wolf began to take over, he would always seek a gentle nod of approval from her before nuzzling into her, scenting her. His human brain told him Isaac would not be forcing himself on the girl, but that only meant that Lydia was a willing participant and his hazy judgement could not make sense of that option either. All he knew was that he needed to get Lydia out of the apartment before his restraint gave in completely. He couldn't bear the thought of hurting her, or scaring her, especially after everything she had been through with Peter. He had smelt the waves of betrayal and hurt rolling off her and had gasped slightly when her hand had casually grazed across his thigh as she pushed past him.

Derek had feared the moment she was gone, almost scared of what he would become, of what he would do to Isaac, or even pale, fragile Stiles, but when he heard the muffled sobs mingling with the sound of her heels clicking away, he felt all the anger drain out of him. Deflated and suddenly feeling empty, Derek had allowed Isaac to explain, through shuddering, shaking breaths, what had really happened. It had taken ten times longer than it should have, since Isaac stopped to put his head in his hands and apologise every other sentence, but had eventually managed to get out his version of events. Derek came to the horrible realisation at the same time that Stiles did, that his blood was still coursing through Lydia's veins, somehow changing her scent to match his own. Isaac, young and inexperienced in werewolf lore, had let his wolf respond to the smell of an alpha coming in such a pretty little package and had naturally wanted to scent her. Isaac may be seventeen years old, but his werewolf side was still just a pup and he couldn't help but respond to the safe, comfortable smell of his pack, especially mingling with the soft sweetness of Lydia's natural scent.

Derek had wanted to run after her, to get her back, but the smell of Isaac's fear had filled his apartment, almost choking him. Stiles had hovered helplessly near the door, looking torn between hating Isaac for touching the girl he loved, and wanting to comfort the beautiful, broken boy who's hands were still trembling. Predictably, Stiles had landed on the side of taking care of his friend and had rushed over to Isaac, pulling his hands away from his face and wrapping an arm awkwardly around his shoulders. Derek had wanted to leave there and then, but Isaac seemed to be having some sort of flashback to when his father was still alive, his panicked eyes flashing golden on and off, struggling against Stiles' embrace and mumbling nonsensically. Derek's strong sense of pack couldn't let him leave the boy, and him and Stiles had spent the rest of the evening trying to calm him down and reassure him that no violent punishment would be coming his way. His heart ached and he felt exhausted by the time the two of them had managed to get Isaac to back to his usual, calm self and get him home.

"And remember dude, if you ever wanna nuzzle someone again, I'm always here! I'm not fussy. I'll take what I can get." Stiles had joked, as they dropped Isaac back off at Boyd's house, managing to coax a small chuckle out of the boy as he let himself out of the Camaro. He paused and Derek cut off the thousandth apology of the day that he knew was coming.

"Isaac. Don't. I'm sorry. I really am." Derek said, seriously, his eyes boring into Isaac's. Isaac nodded, silently and Stiles sighed overdramatically.

"Yeah, we get it. You're sorry. He's sorry. Jeez! This day has aged me! Seriously, do I look older? I FEEL older." Derek rolled his eyes and Isaac smiled at them both, before getting out of the car and heading up the drive. Derek waited till he heard the door close behind Isaac before moving.

"Good god, those cheekbones!" Stiles sighed dreamily, shaking his head and staring wistfully after Isaac. "No wonder Lydia didn't put up a fight." Derek glowered at him and he held his hands up in surrender.

"Right. Got it. Still not ready to joke about it. That's cool." Derek started the car, not looking at Stiles again. Stiles couldn't resist one last little jibe.

"Don't be jealous of Isaac though. Your cheekbones are very nice too." He said reassuringly, reaching over to pat Derek's shoulder seriously. Stiles knew that under normal circumstances, his head would have been smashed off the dashboard by now, but he also knew that Derek was all raged-out today and had retreated into sighing sadly and looking conflicted. Stiles knew it was wrong to take advantage of this new docile Derek, but he couldn't resist making an excuse to reach out and touch him, feeling his bicep tense and rigid under his fingers. He snatched his hand back as Derek's nostrils flared angrily, Stiles realising he was nearing his limit for the day.

Neither of them had mentioned Lydia since Derek had thrown her out and Stiles half wondered if they were heading to hers now. A quick glance at the time on his phone told him it was after midnight though, and, as he recognised the street they were driving down, he realised that Derek was taking him home. He knew why Derek had done it - he could feel the tension in the room bubbling under between the two werewolves, and understood the danger that Lydia could have been in if she had got between them. Stiles himself found it hard to focus around her, and that was just a mix of ADHD and the usual teen hormones, so he couldn't imagine the control needed to concentrate around her when there was a constant war raging within yourself. He still couldn't help the pang of regret he had felt when he'd just let her go. He'd felt frozen on the spot, his heart telling him to go after, but his legs not obeying. Part of him feared what would happen if he left Derek and Isaac to it, and part of him just wanted to stay and listen to Isaac's side of what had happened. He couldn't understand alot of it, since alot of it seemed to be conveyed with broken sentences, and pointed looks between the two men, and Stiles guessed that alot of it was to do with complicated werewolf feelings that were impossible to put into words. Stiles didn't need to understand the details - In his head, it was like the feeling he'd had after his mom had died, the urge to go through her things, to breathe her in from the last remaining things that smelt like her. He still had a bottle of her perfume carefully wrapped in the bottom of his sock drawer and would let himself sniff it occasionally, feeling safe and warm for a second, as if he had her back, if only for that tiny moment. Maybe it was nothing like that, but Stiles prided himself on his ability to read people, and from what Isaac had tried to explain, he guessed it was something similar. The urge to slap Isaac right in the face had dissipated almost immediately at the broken look of self-hatred and fear that had crossed his face. He couldn't blame Isaac for something he couldn't control or even really understand. His mind drifted back to Lydia, and his heart hurt at the memory of the look of betrayal that had crossed her face when Derek had told her to leave. Derek pulled up outside his house and Stiles looked up at him, waiting for him to say something. Derek was simply staring out the window, apparently patiently waiting for Stiles to get out.

"Er... Lydia-"

"I'll call her tomorrow." Derek said simply, cutting Stiles off before he could say anymore. "Go home, Stiles. Get some sleep." Derek was effectively dismissing him and Stiles knew it, but it had been a long day for all of them, and Stiles stifled a yawn, before nodding at Derek and getting out the car. He heard the Camaro speed away the second he was safely in his house, and he wondered if Derek was being truthful when he said that he'd call Lydia tomorrow. The sound of the screeching tyres seemed to suggest otherwise, and Stiles could not help the feeling of jealousy that spread through him at the thought of Derek turning up at Lydia's house in the middle of the night. He lay in bed for a long time, exhausted but unable to sleep, his mind running through the many ways Derek might be comforting Lydia at that very moment.

Across town, Derek was rooted to the spot, hidden in the trees outside Lydia's house. He glared up at the window, unsure of his next move. Slow, steady breathing told him she was asleep, and he wasn't sure whether he should stay or go. He had planned on apologising, something he wasn't good at, and he was worried that if he left, he would lose his nerve, and never come back. He wasn't sure he'd be able to face her if he didn't tell her he was sorry and try to briefly explain why he had acted the way he had acted. That said, it had been a long day, and if Lydia had managed to fall asleep, then maybe he should just leave her to sleep. He vaguely remembered Lydia mentioning that she'd been having nightmares and realised that it might have been some time since she'd had a full night's sleep. If that was the case, he didn't have it in his heart to wake her, just to soothe his own guilty conscience.

He was about to turn away and head out for a run to clear his head when he heard a tiny noise from inside her room. A soft gasp, followed by a quiet sob, and then more steady breathing. He listened intently, as her heartrate sped up and he heard the rustle of skin on sheets as she moved around in her sleep. The tiny rustles intensified, and he could hear her thrashing around in her bed, while he froze, deliberating his next move. He wanted to go in, to comfort her, but he was probably the last person she wanted to see, after he'd thrown her out of his house, crying and alone. He bobbed on his heels, but the sound of a frightened whimper floating down from the open window was enough to make his mind up from him, and he was scrambling easily up the trellis that ran up the side of the house. The wolfsbane flowers had thankfully been removed, but from the broken sound of Lydia's thrashing sobs, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop climbing, even if they hadn't.

He was halfway through the window, one leg gracefully extended out, reaching for the floor, when he heard soft mumbled words from under the covers. He froze, thinking she had woken up, and listened intently for a moment.

"Derek..." She barely breathed the word out, and Derek was sure that without werewolf hearing, he never would have heard it. He frowned, confused. He must had misheard, his name getting mixed up in the soft babbling words that were tumbling out in fits and starts. He slowly lifted his other leg through the window, landing silently, crouching low to the ground as he scanned the darkened room suspiciously.

Lydia squirmed under her covers again, struggling against the pastel green bedspread, moaning softly as her legs tangled in the sheets. As she succeeded in untangling herself, he felt like a pervert again for the thousandth time since all this began. That familiar feeling of being in the wrong place at the wrong time crept over him, as she clumsily kicked the sheets off herself, unveiling too much pale, creamy skin to his hungry eyes. He couldn't help but allow his eyes to linger on the smooth skin that had been revealed to him, covered only in a tiny matching vest and shorts pyjama set. She moaned again, tossing her head from side to side, her legs kicking out at nothing.

"Derek!" He was sure he'd heard it this time, and he froze again, staring at Lydia's sleeping form. Her face contorted, her brow furrowed into a frown and he wanted to die at the thought that it was him tormenting her in her dream, making her little face contort in fear. He suddenly realised why she'd been so shifty when he'd asked her if she was ok. The skip in her heartbeat made sense now. When she'd told him she was having nightmares, she'd failed to mention that _he_ was the star of them, the monster who was tormenting her every night. She thrashed again, a soft mewl escaping her throat and he sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging as he realised he was the cause of this. By trying to save her from Peter, he seemed to have become just as bad as him, lusting after a teenager, infecting her dreams, and worming his way into her life. He couldn't wake her up now. His face would be the last one she'd want to see looming above her, uninvited and unwanted, but there WAS _something_ he could do. Something he'd never really tried, that he wasn't sure would work. He knew his powers could take a person's physical pain, but he had heard that it could be used to leech the anguish out of a person. He wasn't sure exactly how it would feel, but he felt like he had to do something, as she moaned again, her heartbeat thundering too fast and too loud in his ears. Stepping closer to the bed, keeping his movements light and silent, he lifted his hand, hesitating. He was going to have to touch her in order to take her pain she was feeling, but, his eyes flicked up and down her body, not sure where to settle his hand upon her. He decided on her hand, realising it was the least dangerous place to touch her, and reached forward to cover her tiny hand with his own, preparing himself for the wave of fear and hurt that he was sure was about to wash over him. His veins darkened to pulsing black tracks on the back of his hand the second he made contact, but for a second, he felt nothing, but the hammering of her heart, loud and strong now he was touching her. For a moment, he thought it wasn't going to work and sighed sadly. It had been a long shot and he hadn't even been sure that-

All of a sudden, a wave of something very different to fear washed over him and he felt his knees buckle under him. He felt like a surge of electricity was running from Lydia to him and his body crackled with arousal. He stared down at her, resisting the urge to close the gap between her and claim her body with his own, and realised with a start that what he was feeling weren't his own feelings, but hers. She wasn't scared or hurting. She was, for want of a better word, horny. Her fingers intertwined with his and she yanked him down with surprising strength, holding their hands against her chest. His face hovered inches above hers and he stared down at her, holding his breath, terrified that her eyes were about to flicker open and find him hovering over her, his hand pressed against her heaving bosom.

The moment passed and her face relaxed again, her features smoothed out as she slipped back into a dreamless sleep. Even if she wasn't having a nightmare, he was glad he'd been able to take whatever it was that was interrupting her sleep, and he couldn't help but watch her for a moment, as her breathing evened out again and she turned her head, nuzzling into the pillow. Slowly, he untangled his hand from hers and took a step back, away from her before he did something he was going to regret. Instinctively reaching for the covers to wrap her up again, he froze as he realised his erection was straining against his jeans, the denim chafing against him every time he moved. He had been so wrapped up in watching her sleep, he hadn't even noticed the physical reaction his body had had to the intense feelings that had run from her to him. He felt like some horny teenager again, flashing back to being 16 and confusing the heart-pounding rush of arousal with love. Caramel curls flashing to his mind, but he quickly pushed the thought away. Kate was gone, and so was the innocent, stupid teenager who thought he'd been in love with her. He was an adult now. He wasn't stupid. He knew that the stirring in his pants wasn't love - Just his body responding to the sparks of lust that were running through Lydia's dreams.

He decided not to linger, since being found lurking in her room with a raging hard on would probably not look good, and dropped smoothly out of her window in one graceful move. Jogging past the pool, he had barely made it to the edge of the trees when his head jerked up, hearing a tiny noise from the front of the house. He inhaled deeply, recognising the familiar smell of Stiles over the overwhelming chlorine scent coming from the pool. The boy came jogging into view, looking around furtively before heading to the trellis under Lydia's window. Derek slunk back quietly, watching him from behind a tree as Stiles began to clumsily climb the trellis, looking like a drunk spider, his limbs tripping over each other as he tried to haul himself up.

Derek would have laughed at the sight of him, if he wasn't frozen in shock, watching Stiles' uncoordinated climb to Lydia's window. He made it to the top, though it took about three times as long as Derek's graceful ascent, and hauled himself through her window, out of Derek's sight.

Stiles landed with a hard thump, in a crumpled heap on Lydia's bedroom floor. Chancing a glance up at the bed, expecting to have woken her, he was surprised when her soft, even snores continued unbroken. Clambering to his feet, he padded softly over to her, tip-toeing as lightly as he could. Before he could feel smug about managing to make it over to her so silently, his feet tangled in a disgarded bra on her floor and he went sailing across the last few feet between them, landing sprawled on top of her.

Lydia's eyes flew open, as Stiles groaned loudly, the air whooshing out of his lungs as he landed heavily on her. He was still for a moment, then slowly lifted his head to gaze into her sleepy eyes. She blinked slowly, her eyes flicking down to where he was still lying draped awkwardly across her, their bodies pressed against each other, then back up to his eyes. His mouth flapped open and closed wordlessly as he tried to decide what to say, her questioning eyes boring into his the whole time. After a long, still moment where Stiles was incredibly aware of how little Lydia was wearing, he eventually found his voice, clearing his throat.

"I... I'm... sorry. I just wanted to see if you were-" He was cut off as her mouth was suddenly on his, her head craning up to crush their lips together. Stiles was too shocked to do anything but kiss her back, trying to keep up with the sloppy, sleepy pace she was setting. After a moment, he came back to his senses and pushed himself up on his hands, wrenching himself away from her. Her eyes stayed closed for a moment and she wrapped her hands round his neck, gently stopping him from getting all the way up off her, a dreamy smile playing on her lips. Her eyes blinked open slowly and she smiled up at him drowsily, her fingers toying with the soft hair at the back of his neck.

"Lydia. Er.. What are y-" She cut him off with a soft, sleepy shushing sound and her hand slid round to press a finger against his lips. Her finger lingered for a moment, before tugging his bottom lip a little, tracing down his throat and dropping to trail down his chest, her hand coming to rest over his thumping heart. She gazed down at where her hand was covering his chest, her head cocked to the side, staring at her hand in confusion. Her brow furrowed and she looked perplexed. She wasn't the only one. Stiles was still staring down at her, his mouth hanging open, his lips still tingling from their kiss.

"You're letting me touch you," she whispered, uncertainly.

He laughed quietly, the sound huffing out of him in a whoosh of air.

"Of course I am!" He chuckled, puzzled. Why WOULDN'T he let her touch him? He'd be crazy to stop her.

"I'm... not dreaming," she said, with a sudden moment of dawning realisation.

"No." Stiles agreed. He should really get off her, but her hands were still on him, one grasping the front of his shirt, the other curled around his neck. "Am_ I_ dreaming?"

"I don't know. Do I feature in your dreams alot?" She asked, cocking her head to the side innocently.

"I mean... Yeah. You've been known to make an appearance or two." He smirked at her. "Why? Do I feature in yours?" He waggled her eyebrows suggestively at her and she rolled her eyes at him. They were speaking so casually, as if there was nothing strange about the fact that they were having a conversation while he was draped across her barely clothed form.

"Only in my nightmares." She replied, narrowing her eyes and giving him a sly smile.

"Oh well, in that case... 'Night, Lydia." He said dismissively, moving to push himself up off her. A smug smile crossed his features as she tightened her grip on his shirt, pulling him back down to her.

"No," she blurted out. "I.. just..." She trailed off, the banter and the jokey atmosphere all dried up. She gazed up at him shyly, from under her lashes, then shuffled backwards towards the centre of the bed, releasing her grip on him.

"Just... lie down," she demanded simply, dropping her eyes to the empty stretch of bed she'd just vacated.

"What?"

"Lie. Down," she repeated, as if she was asking the most normal thing in the world. He scrambled for a moment, kicking his shoes off hastily, before obediently lying down on his back next to her, clasping his hands on his chest. He could feel her eyes boring into the side of his head, but he kept staring at her ceiling, trying to get his breathing back down to normal while he tried to figure out what Lydia was thinking.

He let his eyes flick over to her. She was lying on her side, her head propped up on her elbow, her breasts threatening to spill out of the tiny camisole she was wearing. Her face was unreadable as she stared at him, her eyes narrowed slightly.

"What er... What are we doing, Lydia?"

She studied him for a moment before answering.

"Deciding whether or not I'm dreaming."

"And?"

"I think not. He's not..." She glanced around the darkened room. "We're alone."

Stiles chose not to question what she meant by that. With a start, he wondered if she was pointedly highlighting the fact that they were alone in her bed. Perhaps she wanted him to make a move?

He rolled onto his side, mimicking her relaxed pose, propping his head up on his hand. She sucked her lip into her mouth suggestively and raised her eyebrows at him. Taking a deep breath, Stiles made his decision and leaned forward, stopping dead when she swayed away from him, rolling onto her back and laughing up at her ceiling.

"Nice try," she said, without scorn, reaching across her body to pat his cheek. Stiles rolled away from her, flopping onto his back with a sigh.

"What are we doing?" He repeated, rubbing his hands over his face, exasperated. He had no clue what was going through her mind. She had kissed him, then invited him into her bed, then flinched away from him when he'd made his move. She was impossible. Thinking back to that first day in the fifth grade when the girl with bright red pigtails had stolen his crayons, then pushed him in the mud, he should have known what he was getting into. He wouldn't change a thing though. Except, well maybe all those years she dated Jackson. Oh, and maybe he could have done without being pushed in the mud too.

"I don't know," she replied, sadly. He looked so angry at her. He was sighing just like Jackson used to when she was trying to get him to watch The Notebook instead of fooling around.

"I don't want to play games." She turned her head to look at him again. He was back to staring at the ceiling. She couldn't keep track of the amount of times the mood between them had shifted. One minute they were flirting and playful, the next things were getting serious and she didn't know what to say to him.

"I'm not," she whispered, looking back to the ceiling. Their shoulders were brushing against each other with each breath and she let her hand flop from where it had been resting on her stomach to her side, inching her fingers over till they found his. Her fingers wrapped around his, clasping onto his hand desperately, trying to convey what she didn't know how to say.

"Just... stay, ok? Just stay for a little while." His fingers reacted at her words, intertwining with hers and giving them a little squeeze.

"OK," he replied simply and they lay in silence for a little while, before steady, even breathing from next to him told him she had fallen asleep again. He allowed himself a quick glance at her peaceful, sleeping face, before squeezing his eyes shut. He didn't think he'd ever be able to relax enough to sleep next to her. He could hear his heart still pounding and a little movement from her fingers reminded him that they were still holding hands. He wasn't even sure going to sleep here would be a good idea. Surely her mother was somewhere in the house, and, as much as Mrs Martin liked him, he doubted she'd take too kindly to finding him snoozing away next to her scantily clad daughter. He would just relax here a while, make sure Lydia was ok, and then let himself out quietly.

Trying to relax, he suddenly tried to remember the last time he'd had a good night's sleep. He'd been so worried about Lydia that he'd barely slept while she was in the hospital, instead staying up all night trying (in vain) to research the effects werewolf blood sharing, which turned out to be an incredibly undocumented phenomenon. Even after she was home, his nights had either been spent worrying about her and whether she was coping ok, or staying up, taking part in all night online gaming marathons with Boyd and Erica. He yawned, as a sudden exhaustion washed over him and his eyes flickered shut. Maybe he would just rest his eyes for a moment...

* * *

**Awww, bit of fluffy Stiles/Lydia interaction there for you. How do we all feel about that? **

**I find the idea of teeny, tiny Stiles and Lydia sooooooo cute! Imagine them! I dunno how old you are in fifth grade and I cba to google it cause I don't care that much, but I'm guessing you're pretty little? Either way, they're tiny and adorable in my head. Ooh, you know what would be super cute? Like, an AU Stiles/Lydia story about them becoming friends when they're super little and growing up together? Awwww... Maybe after this one's done? I dunno.** **Maybe...**

**Exciting news! changed their rules so you can list a story with four characters, instead of just two now. It's SUCH a good idea, cause it's so hard when you're trying to write a love triangle fic, cause you have to decide which person doesn't get included in the official description. So, I added Stiles to the characters, cause I think it makes sense that I include all three of them. Hopefully it might result in a few more readers cause it'll probably turn up in the results for people searching for Stydia or Sterek fics now. Anyhoo, just thought I'd mention it. I'm glad they changed it. **

**Anyways, the next chapter's written, so it should be up in a coupla days, but after that, I've hit a little bit of a wall. I can't decide my next move... I know where I want it to end up, but I can't decide how to get them all to that point. So, any ideas are greatly appreciated. I can't promise to use all of them, cause they might not all fit in with my endgame, but any suggestions are definitely welcome. I love hearing all your ideas. :)**

**xxx**


	20. The Five Year Plan Works

**FINALLY**!** ;)**

* * *

Lydia's eyes blinked open slowly, disorientated for a moment as she glanced down at the strong arms that were wrapped around her. They must have only been asleep for a few hours, since the room was still dark, though not as dark as it had been. The first weak strains of early morning light were starting to slowly brighten the stretch of sky that Lydia could see out of her window. A quick glance at her alarm clock confirmed her suspicion. _6:02am._ Her mom would have already left for work, the long commute to her office in Sacramento awaiting her. Lydia stretched happily. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so well rested, even after only a few hours. As lovely as her dreams could be, she realised they must have been affecting her sleep pretty negatively, since she couldn't remember the last time she'd managed to sleep through the muffled sounds of her mom getting ready and leaving for work.

It should feel strange, waking up with Stiles wrapped around her, his body overly warm against her back, but she sighed contentedly. It didn't feel strange, as she stretched her legs out, wiggling a little in his arms. Actually, perhaps it was a _little_ strange, as she suddenly realised Stiles' erection was pressed up against her ass, and she froze, with a little gasp. She knew from the way his steady breathing hitched that he was awake now and she glanced over her shoulder at him, smiling at the sleepy look on his face.

"Hey," he murmured against her shoulder. If he was at all surprised that they had ended up cuddling in their sleep, he managed not to show it, smiling lazily at her.

She wiggled her ass against him, pointedly.

"Hey yourself." She raised her eyebrows at him and he immediately realised what she was pointing out.

"Oh. OH! Oh god. Awkward. So awkward," he muttered, glancing down between them and trying to shuffle backwards, away from her.

She kept a tight grip on his arm, shuffling back with him. She hadn't meant to embarrass him.

"No, no! It's ok." She looked away from him, staring at the wall.

"It is?" He lifted up slightly to lean over her, giving her a dubious look.

"Well, I dunno." Lydia shrugged, suddenly feeling shy. She was glad it was still fairly dark in the room, since her cheeks felt heated against the cool of her pillow. **Was** it ok?

"I guess." She shrugged again. Neither of them really knew where to go from here. She wasn't even sure what she meant.

"Ok. Good. Well, so far we have gathered that I am in bed with Lydia Martin, and I have an erection and she thinks that's ok." Lydia giggled. "Question - Did Derek slam my head into anything recently? Cause this doesn't seem right." Her laughter faded away and she awkwardly wriggled around in his arms, turning to face him.

"Doesn't it?" She asked, quietly.

Stiles had never been described as being smooth in his life. Awkward, hyperactive, clumsy... hilarious, even, but never smooth. But, as he took a deep breath, with Lydia's uncertain eyes boring into his, he realised now, for once in his life, he had to be smooth.

"You tell me," he breathed, before taking a chance and leaning in to kiss her. Despite them both having their heads on the pillow, he managed to turn his face just right so they avoided bumping noses and their lips met gently, without any awkward bumps. He inwardly congratulated himself. Smooth, Stiles. Very smooth.

He had no time to be too pleased with himself though, as Lydia's hand came up to rest on his cheek and she kissed him back. This wasn't like the kiss last night. That had been a half-hearted crushing of her lips against his, her mind too sleepy and dream-addled to really know what she was doing. The girl kissing him now though definitely knew what she was doing, as she shimmied across the bed, closing the tiny gap between them. Her tongue darted out to seek entry into his mouth and he parted his lips obligingly, letting her take control of the kiss, her hand fisting in the shirt at the back of his neck. He would have been content to just kiss her like this all day, but trying to kiss lying side by side was resulting in some serious neck cramp on his part, on account of having to hold his head at an odd angle. As if she was reading his mind, she pushed him back, briefly breaking their kiss. Panic flooded Stiles for a second. She was stopping. They were stopping. Now he'd had a taste - a proper, waking, sober taste - he didn't think he'd ever been the same. He never wanted to not be kissing her again. His fears subsided though, as she pushed him back flat and shifted to lean over him, casually throwing her leg over his and leaning down to kiss him again. She pressed her body against his side as she kissed him, her hand resting on his chest, grabbing onto the soft fabric of his shirt. The leg that was intertwined with his moved against him, rubbing against his thigh, reminding him of his little problem, which had gone from standard morning semi, to raging hard on within seconds. Was that ok? After only a few minutes of kissing? Was it flattering, or weird? He wasn't really sure, since he didn't exactly have much to compare it to. He decided not to worry about it. He was just gonna go with the flow.

All of a sudden, she stopped kissing him and pulled back with a soft smacking sound. His eyes flew open. He was really beginning to think she could read his mind, and could see all the filth that was running through it at the feel of her body pressed up against him. Her eyes were lidded, her hair was messy, and her lips were pink and swollen and he wondered if he looked anywhere near as sexy as she did right now. He doubted it.

"My neck hurts," she announced, and sat up suddenly, bringing her feet under her to kneel and spinning back round to face him. Unsure of what she wanted him to do, he followed suit, scrambling to sit up and kneel in front of her. Their eyes were level like this and he gulped, hoping that was what she had wanted. He hoped she had just meant "_My neck hurts from kissing like this. Let's sit up_" and not "_My neck hurts. Get out_." Thankfully, she walked forwards on her knees, closing the gap between them, and leaned forward to capture his lips once more. He could tell she was more comfortable like this as she tilted her head, allowing him better access to her mouth. Her hands came up to link around the back of his neck, her nails trailing gently along his shoulders, making him shudder slightly. His hands tentatively came to rest on her hips, not wanting to rush things and they kissed like that for a while, tiny gasps escaping them both as they explored each other's mouths. Stiles made no move to push things further, though the insistent poking against her belly reminded her that his body wanted to. She smiled against his mouth. She couldn't remember the last time a guy had been content to just make out with her, with no agenda for anything more. Ironically, it made Lydia want him even more, and she let her hands slide down his chest, pausing at his waistband, before jumping to grasp at the hands that were delicately resting on her hips. Covering his hands with her own, she lifted them and slid them round to her front, firmly pressing them against her breasts. His hands just hung there for a moment, cupping her through her camisole, before he seemed to wake himself up and squeezed lightly. She smiled and let her hands glide down his back to grab at his ass, pulling him against her, rubbing herself against the bulge in his jeans. He moaned into her mouth and his thumbs found her nipples, pert and hard beneath the thin fabric of her camisole. He stroked them, experimentally, and she gasped into his mouth, arching her back into his touch. His thumbs moved in small circles, teasing the sensitive buds until she couldn't concentrate on his mouth anymore, breaking the kiss and letting her head fall back. His mouth immediately moved to her jawline, planting soft kisses there, trailing down to her neck and letting his lips find the sensitive spot right in the crook of her neck. She moaned at the feel of his mouth sucking and licking at her pulse point, and felt him breathe out a soft laugh against her throat.

"This is happening. This is really happening." His tone was breathless and disbelieving.

"Don't make it weird," she panted out, another moan escaping her lips. She swiftly realised she was going to have to take charge, with what she assumed was a fairly sexually inexperienced Stiles, and she leaned back slightly, batting his hands away from her chest for a second. She mourned the loss of his hands on her for only long enough to pull her vest over her head, and toss it to the floor, shaking her hair out of her eyes and kneeling in front of him with no shame or embarrassment. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of her bare breasts. He'd seen them before, of course, but that had been different. She had been missing and dirty and cold and all he could think about was covering her up from the prying eyes of his dad's creepy co-workers. Now, covering her up was the last thing on his mind, as he slowly looked her up and down as she kneeled in front of him, her eyes wide and expectant. She bit her lip shyly.

He dragged his eyes back up to meet hers, and took her face in both of his hands, leaning his forehead against her own. Their eyes were so close together that he noticed all the different shades of green in her big eyes that he had never noticed before - Shades of green and blue that he never knew existed, blurring together from being pressed so closely against her face. He tried to breathe slowly, to calm himself down, so she would really believe that he meant the next words out of his mouth. Because he did.

"Lydia. You're so beautiful."

"Really?" She sounded so unsure, so uncertain, that his heart broke for her. He remembered the last time he'd told her she was beautiful, at the dance, the night everything had gone wrong. She looked at him disbelievingly then aswell, and he wondered if Jackson had ever told her she was beautiful. If she was his, he would tell her every day. _Maybe she is mine_, he thought to himself. Or maybe she could be? _Just don't mess it up_, his brain told him. Just be smooth.

"Yes." He nodded solemnly at her and she looked so happy that he couldn't stop the next words that tumbled out of his mouth. "I love you."

Oh god, oh god. Way to be smooth. She pulled back, looking up into his eyes, uncertainly. He had apparently told her before, that drunken night in the car, but he was sober now. He had no excuse. No way out. Oh god. He'd messed this up before it had even started.

"You really do, don't you?" She asked, curiously. She didn't sound completely horrified, which was a positive sign.

He nodded sadly, avoiding eye contact, which is why he didn't see it coming when she suddenly launched herself at him, throwing her full body weight at him, knocking him back onto the pillows behind them. Her mouth was on his again, their tongues swiping against each other, duelling for control. She shifted so she was straddling him, shamelessly grinding her core against him, eliciting muffled moans from them both. Stiles clutched at her back, holding her even tighter against him, all shyness apparently wiped away with his bold declaration of love. Though she hadn't said it back (he hadn't expected her to), the very fact that she had reacted by throwing herself at him was enough for him to give up on the gentle, tentative approach and his hands freely roamed her body, revelling in the soft smooth skin of her bare back. His fingers boldly skimmed under the back of her shorts, moulding to the rounded curve of her ass, urging her on as she rubbed herself against him. She reared up suddenly, flipping her mane of curls back out of her eyes, and moved her hands to the hem of his shirt, dragging it up his body. He sat up obediently and helped her as she pulled it over his head, flopping back down immediately. They both panted hard, taking a minute to catch their breath as she lowered her lips to his chest, planting a trail of kisses across his collarbone. Her mouth trailed upwards, stopping to kiss each of the moles that marked his pale neck, then moving up to capture his lips once again. Passion engulfed them as she nipped playfully at his lip, and he rolled them over, his fingers tangling in her hair. Her legs came up to wrap around him, holding him against her and he let his hands skim against her thigh, before stroking up her side to cup her breast once again. He broke contact with her lips, licking and kissing a trail down her body until he reached her breasts, one hand massaging one, lowering his mouth to the other one. He kissed her gently, before capturing her nipple in his mouth, letting his tongue swirl around it, enjoying the gasp of pleasure as she arched her back off the bed. Her hands came up to rest on his head, holding his face against her chest, her breaths coming out in loud pants that echoed into the gloom of the early morning.

Suddenly her hands were snaking between them, her fingers fumbling with his superman belt buckle. The clinking of metal seemed too loud in the quiet of the room and Lydia tutted loudly when she couldn't get his belt open straight away.

Stiles wanted to help her, but he was still, staring down at her frustrated face in awe. Obviously, he could tell that this was where they were headed - He wasn't shocked that she was reaching for his belt. He had just suddenly realised that this was really going to happen. He was about to lose his virginity. And to Lydia Martin. The five year plan worked.

He sucked in his breath when Lydia finally managed to work his zipper down, the backs of her fingers brushing against the bulge in his boxers. She flashed him a triumphant smile at her victory over his belt buckle and worked her hand into his jeans, her fingers moving against him slowly. He gasped and dropped his head against her chest, aimlessly pressing a kiss there.

Stiles focused on breathing in and out slowly, trying to control himself as Lydia stroked him gently through his boxers. Lydia was smiling up at the unfocused look in his eyes, revelling in the power she had over him at that moment, when a sudden, shrill yapping filled the room. Both of their heads snapped round to see Prada standing in the doorway of the room, snarling and yapping, her little eyes narrowed. They whipped their heads to follow Prada's glare, to where a familiar figure was silhouetted outside her window, two tiny dots of red glowing in the darkness.

Lydia could not stop the short, piercing scream as she shoved Stiles off her and scrambled to cover herself with her bedspread. Stiles landed heavily on the floor with a loud thump and, in the split second she flicked her head to make sure he was alright, the figure had gone. If Stiles hadn't seen him too, she wouldn't have believed he was there, but from the look of horror that was crossing Stiles' face as he stared at the open window, she knew she wasn't seeing things.

Without thinking, she opened her mouth to speak, knowing he would be able to hear her. He couldn't have got very far yet.

"Derek! Stop!" Her voice came out desperate and needy and she hated herself for it, not daring to look at Stiles.

A moment passed and the silence grew heavy and awkward. She wasn't sure why she'd called after him. She hadn't really expected him to come back and she sighed heavily, realising he was long gone.

She shot Stiles a sideways glance, shuffling uncomfortably as she pulled the sheet a little higher up around herself. Stiles breathed out a quiet laugh, trying to break the tension that had settled upon them both.

"Well, I-" He was interrupted by a shadow suddenly engulfing the room, blocking out the glow of the dawn. Derek was back, his large frame silhouetted in the window, his eyes no longer burning red. Stiles and Lydia both gasped at his sudden appearance. Neither of them had believed he was really coming back and now no-one was quite sure what to say. Eventually, it was Stiles who spoke up, breaking the silence.

"Well, this is awkward."

* * *

**Yay! It finally happened! Some smut! I'm guessing it wont be exactly what everyone was expecting, but I just want Stiles to get some action! And, he nearly did! So close! Darn that Derek, always turning up at the wrong time.**

**Also, I'm not gonna lie. I have no clue what's gonna happen next. Once again, I've written the characters into a situation that I'm not sure how to get them out of. I don't know why I keep doing this to myself! I really need to plan these things better. Ah well, I'm sure I'll figure something out.**

**Anyhoo, thank you so much for all your reviews! I've had some particularly lovely ones recently and they totally keep me inspired to keep writing. Keep reviewing and throwing ideas at me. Suggestions are always welcome. I love you guys!**

**xxx**


	21. Breakfast

_"Well this is awkward."_

The silence crackled between them while Stiles and Lydia stared at Derek like they were afraid he was about to disappear. Silently, he moved from where he was perched easily on her window ledge, to land softly in her room, straightening to his full height. He shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to look anywhere except the almost-naked pair who were shifting awkwardly in the heavy silence of the room. He tried hard not to inhale through his nose, knowing the scent of arousal would cloud his judgement even more than it already was and he forced himself to keep breathing steadily through his mouth. He needed to say what he had gone there to say, and then get out of there, before he did or said something he regretted.

"I came to apologise." He said finally, as if there was nothing strange about the situation.

"What?" Lydia breathed out, confused.

"I came to apologise," Derek repeated, staring at the floor. "I'm sorry I threw you out. Isaac explained what happened. I was wrong." His expression was unreadable and he spoke without any emotion, his tone clipped and formal.

Stiles was still sitting where he had fallen, peeking out nervously over the side of the bed, but one look at Lydia's terrified expression had him scrambling to his feet. It wasn't fair that Stiles could hide most of himself behind the bed, while Lydia was sitting only a few feet away from the seething, glaring Derek. They would face whatever his reaction would be together. He clambered across the bed to sit next to her, wrapping his arm round her shoulders protectively. She tensed immediately, shrugging his arm off her and shuffling awkwardly away from him.

"What the-" Stiles sighed heavily, embarrassed at her reaction. The moment did not go unnoticed by Derek, who gritted his teeth to stop the small smile that was threatening to pull at his lips. Stiles looked at them both incredulously as they both stared at the ground like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

The silence stretched on uncomfortably and eventually Derek shifted slightly, raising his head to address them both.

"Well, I just wanted you to know I was sorry. I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing." His words came out bitter and sharp, and Lydia shifted uncomfortably as he turned to leave.

"No! Derek, wait!" She blurted out, stopping him in his tracks. "You don't have to go."

Stiles snorted from where he was perched on Lydia's bed and stood up abruptly. Derek and Lydia watched in silence as he angrily snatched up his shirt from where Lydia had thrown it, fumbling to turn it the right way in.

"Wait, Stiles... What are you-?" Lydia said softly, her brow furrowing at him.

"No. It's fine!" He snapped at her. "I know where I'm not wanted."

"Stiles. Come on. It's not like that. I just..."

"Lydia, just stop. You only want me till _he_ shows up." He spat the words at her contemptuously. "I get it. Why would you want me, compared to the great Derek Hale?" His words dripped with jealousy and Lydia and Derek could only stare at him helplessly, shocked by this new, dark side of Stiles. He succeeded in getting his shirt the right way in, his fumbling hands pulling it over his head angrily.

"Stiles. Stop." Derek spoke up finally, and Stiles stilled, his shaking fingers just about managing to do his belt back up.

"I'm not interested in... I just came to apologise. That's all."

"Right! That's why you climbed into her bedroom window at 6am. That doesn't look suspicious at all." Stiles huffed at him.

"I'm not..." He struggled to find the right words, glancing at Lydia out of the corner of his eye. "I don't want her," he said, finally.

"Wow. OK." Lydia snorted, mirthlessly, pursing her lips and turning her eyes up to the ceiling. "Well, both of you really know how to make a girl feel special."

Derek shifted and sighed heavily, terrified that she might be about to cry again.

"It's not that. It's just... Don't get me wrong - You're very attractive. But you're just kids. It wouldn't be right." The use of the plural - "kids" - did not go unnoticed by Stiles and Lydia and they shared a confused look.

"_Kids?_ As in **both** of us? I don't... I don't know what weird wolf stuff you're in to, pal, but I am definitely not down for that."

"I wouldn't say no," Stiles joked, weakly. Derek could not keep up with them. One second the waves of anger and hurt were rolling off them, making him want to envelope them in his arms, making that particular acrid scent go away, and the next moment, haughty, confident Lydia was back, accompanied by the funny, witty Stiles. He wasn't sure what to say, caught admitting that he wanted both of them. They were both regarding him with amused curiosity, and he decided that saying nothing was his safest bet. He narrowed his eyes and glared at them, immediately realising it was a mistake. His glare seemed to be all the confirmation they needed and Lydia's eyes widened wickedly as she gasped overdramatically. She flicked her head round to beam at Stiles, who was standing with a smug grin plastered on his face.

"I knew it!" She exclaimed gleefully.

Derek gritted his teeth.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He ground the words out, immediately knowing how false they sounded. He wanted to die. He was instantly glad he had grown out of blushing, though he was sure some vague tint of pink had probably crept into his cheeks.

"You've gone **SO** red, Derek!" Stiles pointed out, laughing through his words. "You massive pervert. God, we're just kids! What is wrong with you?" Stiles was opening laughing now and Lydia joined him, copying his stance of moral outrage.

"Is that why you turned up in my bedroom? Hoping to get in on the action? Ugh. You make me sick!" She giggled, while Derek paled. Though he knew they were only joking, everything they were saying was pretty much true and he just felt wrong. Though their reaction was better than he'd expected, he was still angry at himself for letting his go so far that they now knew the truth, and it didn't stop him feeling like some awful predator, preying on these immature, giggling teens in front of him.

"This isn't a joke. It's not funny." He growled at them, as their giggling wound down.

"Oh stop being such a sourwolf." He hated that word was catching on. He cursed Stiles for ever saying it. "It IS kind of funny!"

"Yeah, I mean... she's right. Honestly though, look at us. We're adorable!" They both cocked their heads to the side at the same time, smiling sweetly at him. "Who _wouldn't_ want us?"

Derek didn't know how to respond to that, so he erred on the side of caution and said nothing.

"Go downstairs," Lydia demanded suddenly. "Both of you." She added, nodding to Stiles.

"Why?" Stiles said, suspiciously.

"Because I'm gonna get dressed and then you're gonna take me to breakfast."

They both stared at her for a moment as she delicately jumped off the bed, carefully holding the sheet around her still.

"Well?" She tapped her foot impatiently. "You both just gonna stand there? I'd change in front of you, but I dunno if you'd be able to control yourselves."

She smiled wickedly at them, as they both suddenly swivelled on the spot, not knowing what to do with themselves.

"I haven't got all day, boys! Vaminos, vaminos!" She chuckled as they lurched for the door, Derek looking as uncoordinated as Stiles as they both fumbled to make it through the door, daring one last glance at her mischievous smile before disappearing down the hall.

* * *

The car journey to the diner had been a quiet one, even Stiles' usual neverending stream of nonsense all dried up in the strange atmosphere that seemed to settle on all three of them. The bravado that Lydia had displayed in her room had vanished, replaced by awkward, sideways glances at the two men in her company.

As Lydia began to peruse the menu, she started to think it wasn't entirely a good idea to invite the both of them to breakfast, and it was an even worse idea to seat herself on the booth directly opposite both of them. She couldn't help but peek over the top of her menu at the two men who were crammed into the small bench across from her. Stiles was studying the menu like he'd never seen anything as interesting in his life, mindlessly babbling about the merits of pancakes vs.. waffles, while Derek had given up on any pretence of reading the menu altogether and was staring out of the window at the rush hour traffic, his jaw set in a hard line.

"Today feels like a good day for pancakes, doesn't it? Maybe with extra bacon? Worked up quite an appetite this morning!" Stiles chuckled to himself, his laughter trailing off as he glanced up at Lydia's glaring eyes locked on his.

"Oh... We are not joking about this yet. Right. Got it."

Lydia took a deep breath and started to speak, drawing both men's attention back to her.

"Ok, I think we need to talk-"

"Hey guys! I'm gonna be your waitress today! What can I get y'all?"

Lydia sighed, frustrated that the waitress, who was much too chirpy considering it wasn't even 8:00 yet, had interrupted them. Her manners kicked in though, and she flashed the waitress a tight smile, before ordering the fruit platter. Much as she would like to eat ice cream every day, she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten anything nutritious and her body felt like it needed something healthy. Stiles clearly had no such concerns, as he enthusiastically ordered a super sized stack of pancakes with extra syrup and a side of bacon. Derek was silent for a beat longer than was necessary before simply saying two words.

"Coffee. Black."

Lydia tutted and rolled her eyes at him.

"Bring him a muffin or something," she sighed, giving the waitress an apologetic smile, while Derek glared at her.

"I don't need you ordering my food for me," he growled at her, after the waitress had left. Lydia busied herself with arranging her cutlery the way she liked it, not even glancing up at him as she replied to him.

"Fine then. Have it your way. Starve." She finally raised her gaze to meet his, fixing him with a defiant look, which he returned in equal measure.

"Ok. Time out, guys." Stiles ducked his head between them, miming a T-sign with his hands. Derek was the first to look away, turning his gaze back out of the window, staring out into the traffic, and Lydia smiled triumphantly to herself. She realised she liked antagonising Derek - Liked pushing his buttons and making him glare at her in that way that he seemed to reserve only for her... and sometimes Stiles.

"So, are we gonna talk?" Lydia blurted out, tossing her hair out of her eyes and looking from Stiles to Derek with a serious look on her face. The direction her thoughts had taken her had reminded her why she had wanted to spend time with them in the first place. She felt like they needed to sit down and have a conversation about everything that had been going on. She just wasn't sure where to start.

"Talk?" Stiles spat the word out like it was an alien concept, which was absurd, considering how much he usually talked.

"Yes, Stiles. Talk. You know? I say something, then you say something, then maybe Derek says something?"

"Ah yes. _Conversation._ Let's open a dialogue." Stiles spoke confidently, though his hands were shredding his napkin into confetti.

"What would you like to talk about?" Derek suddenly spoke up, dragging his attention back to inside the diner.

Lydia felt her confidence drain out of her as he fixed her with an unreadable look. No-one else seemed to have this effect on her, this strange ability to suddenly make her feel like he was looking straight through the haughty act she put on most of the time. Even when Stiles saw the real her, it was usually because she was letting him, deliberately dropping her guard to let him in. She prayed she wasn't blushing, when she took a deep breath, buying herself an extra second to think of what to say.

"Everything," she finally breathed out.

* * *

**What a tease! I'm sorry about this chapter. It's clearly filler. I apologise that pretty much nothing happened, but like... real life is just kicking my ass right now. Oh Life, why you gotta be so hard?! Anyhoo, I'll make sure the next chapter is a long one and that it's a good un'. Might even try and get some smut in there if I can. A little reward for sticking with me through a slightly dull chapter. ;)**

**Also, their waitress is southern in my head, because I automatically assume all american waitresses are southern. I don't know why. I just do.**

**Thank you so much for your responses to my last chapter! I know some of you are pretty solid Derek/Lydia shippers and I was a little bit worried that some of you might be disappointed by the Stiles/Lydia action, but everyone was so lovely and encouraging! Thanks! You guys keep me writing! Keep the reviews, coming my little lovelies!**

**xxx**


	22. Stop Talking

**Hi guys! Sorry for my absence! See full A/N at the bottom of the page for my full, grovelling apology and my half-assed explanation. Meanwhile... enjoy! ;)**

* * *

_"What would you like to talk about?" Derek suddenly spoke up, dragging his attention back to inside the diner._

_"Everything," she finally breathed out._

xxxxxxx

Stiles whistled nervously, his eyes darting between them.

"This is Derek we're talking about here. Not exactly an avid conversationalist!" He blurted out, ignoring the fact that Derek was sitting right next to him. Lydia's eyes darted nervously to Derek, expecting a growl or a glare in response, surprised when Derek turned to Stiles, fixing him with a cool look.

"I talk when I need to," Derek replied simply.

"Well then you can appreciate that this situation calls for some discussion," Lydia said, smiling brightly at him.

"There's no "situation."" He murmured, turning his eyes to focus on his hands that were neatly clasped on the table in front of him.

"Look, we need to-"

"Hey!" The waitress, who's timing was proving to be astoundingly poor, interrupted a second time, weaving her way over to their table with a tray full of food.

"Ok, so we've got the fruit platter..." She placed Lydia's food in front of her, sparing her only a brief, polite smile.

"And the pancakes with a side of bacon." She placed the pile of food in front of Stiles, smiling broadly at him. "And extra syrup." She winked at him, dropping the jug next to his plate, as Lydia narrowed her eyes at her suspiciously. She was pretty sure her lips weren't such a defined shade of pink when she had come over to take their order, and she was almost certain that an extra button on her tight blue shirt dress had been undone since her last visit.

"...And a black coffee." The waitress leaned unneccessarily low across the table, her ample chest almost bumping into Stiles' gobsmacked face as she placed the mug in front of Derek.

"And a muffin. I brought chocolate chip. It's my favourite," she purred at Derek, still leaning low towards him, jutting her chest out at him. Lydia glared at the cleavage that was threatening to spill out of the gingham uniform that didn't seem able to contain it. Derek had barely glanced up at the girl when he sniffed slightly, cocking his head towards Lydia for a split second before turning his attention back to Heidi, his face cracking into a wide grin.

He reached forward to take the muffin from her outstretched hand, letting his fingers brush against hers for a second longer than neccessary.

"Perfect. My favourite too," he murmured softly, fixing her with an intense look that made the girl blush. "Thank you so much..." He trailed off as he let his eyes flick down to her cleavage, landing on the name badge that was precariously perched on her pocket. "Heidi." He purred her name at her, eliciting a giggle that made Lydia roll her eyes.

"Yep. That's great. Thanks," Lydia snapped at her. Heidi jumped like she'd forgotten Lydia was there, and glanced at her before flashing Derek one last sly smile and sashaying away, her hips swinging like she was stalking down a catwalk, instead of a crappy diner in the middle of nowhere. Stiles watched her walk away with his mouth hanging open, apparently mesmerised by the way the material clung to her curves - seriously, who designed these uniforms? Perverts? - while Derek calmly added a dash of sugar to his coffee like nothing had happened.

"Well, she just flirted her tip away," Lydia said tightly, viciously stabbing a strawberry with more force than was neccessary.

"What do you mean?" Derek asked innocently, taking a sip of his coffee, while Stiles flicked his eyes between them like he was watching a tennis match.

"I mean... Completely unprofessional, right? RIGHT?" She turned her glare to give Stiles a pointed look. He knew he was supposed to mindlessly agree, like she was used to but...

"What? Oh. Yeah. Totally unprofessional. So unprofessional that I MAY NEVER LEAVE THIS PLACE!" Lydia snorted, trying to ignore the little smirk that played on Derek's lips, stabbing another strawberry with undue force.

"You're jealous." Derek accused, his eyes narrowed, looking almost amused.

"Don't be ridiculous." She pursed her lips and flipped her hair, as if that somehow showed how little she cared.

"I can smell it on you."

"Don't do that! I hate it!" She hissed at him.

"Do what?"

"Don't smell my emotions!" She shouted at him, earning confused looks from the couple on the table next to them. Stiles chuckled nervously as she smiled brightly at them, before leaning in and turning her glare back to Derek. He was grinning now, chuckling down at his coffee.

"Ok. Second time-out of the day, guys." Stiles leaned in, miming another T-sign with his hands. He put on his best 'mom' voice. "Lydia, stop being jealous. Derek, stop smelling her emotions. Or so help me, I will turn this car around." Neither of them laughed at his lame attempts at humour but the atmosphere seemed to lighten a little and Lydia even stopped glaring and turned her attention back to her fruit.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Lydia resting her head on her hand and pushing her food around her plate with her fork. Healthy, nutritious fruit had seemed like a good idea at the time, but the lovely Heidi had put her in a bad mood, and now she'd eaten all the strawberries, the plate didn't seem nearly as appetising. She was busy rolling a grape through the little pool of raspberry coulis, drawing little patterns with it, when a huge slice of pancake landed on her plate, garnished with a bacon smiley face. Her head snapped up to meet Stiles' sheepish gaze.

"I don't need spidey senses to know when you need pancakes." He shrugged and slid the pot of syrup over to her, while she regarded him curiously. She doubted he'd meant it as a dig at Derek, but once glance across at the glowering Alpha told her that he was taking it as such.

"Thank you," she said seriously, as she poured syrup all over her plate, flooding the little little grape city she'd been building.

"It's just a pancake, Lyd. I have like, 20 of 'em," he said, with his mouth full, ruining the moment.

Shaking her head at his naivety, Lydia took a bite, feeling her bad mood disolve away now she had a mouthful of sugar. She noticed that the chocolate chip muffin was still sitting in front of Derek, untouched, and wondered if he was making a point, or if he really just wasn't hungry.

"Right, so.." Lydia started decisively, slapping her palm on the table like she was calling a meeting to order. "Are we going to talk about things?"

"Jesus, Lydia." Stiles mumbled out with a mouthful of bacon. He swallowed. "Can't this wait till we're done eating? I don't know about you, but I don't wanna work out the logistics of a threeway on an empty stomach."

Lydia knew Stiles well enough to know he was joking, but Derek nearly choked on a mouthful on coffee at Stiles' words.

"I'm not sure Stiles. I know the waitress was pretty flirty, but I'm not sure she'd be down for that. You can ask her though?"

Stiles grinned at her, his lips shining with sticky syrup.

"Hey! You don't ask, you don't get." She grinned back at him, the mood instantly light again. Derek, however, was staring at them with ill-disguised horror.

Lydia rolled her eyes at him and sighed.

"Is humour-impairment a werewolf trait, or is it just you?" Realising they were teasing him, Derek glowered, as Stiles piped up.

"Gotta just be him. Erica's hilarious! Even Isaac's been known to crack a joke or two. I swear he was on the cusp of spouting a dirty limerick the other day!"

Stiles didn't notice Derek stiffen at the mention of Isaac's name, since he was too focused on trying to get a huge piece of bacon to balance on his fork, but the moment didn't go unnoticed by Lydia and she sighed. She was enjoying the banter her and Stiles were having, but Derek's slight movement caught her attention and reminded them that they had alot to talk about.

"So... Isaac...?" She trailed off, awkwardly, not knowing how to word it. Stiles' head jerked up.

"Oh, shit. Yeah. Isaac."

A beat passed between them, where Derek looked like he was figuring out what to say.

"I thought he was pinning you down," he blurted out, his words tumbling out too fast.

"What?" Lydia almost laughed the word, not believing what she was hearing.

"I thought he.. was hurting you." He stared down at the table, looking conflicted.

"Hurting me?" She stammered out.

"Not hurting... Just... I didn't know what to think." Derek ran a hand through his hair, looking like he was struggling to organise his thoughts.

"I thought he was pinning you down." He repeated, finally. "I didn't think Isaac would hurt you, but... I didn't know what I was seeing. I was angry at Isaac and I was worried I would lose control and I just didn't want you to get hurt."

Lydia was pretty sure that was the most words Derek had said to her, and definitely the most honest and was close to reaching her hand across to cover Derek's when Stiles piped up.

"Why didn't you stop him?"

They cast their eyes in his direction and he ploughed on, oblivious to the delicacy of the subject he was broaching.

"Isaac, I mean. Why didn't you stop him? He said you didn't smell like fear."

"Um..." Lydia started, casting her eyes down and staring at her pancakes like she was hoping they'd give her the answer. She took a deep breath, finding the confidence that seemed to be eluding her these days. "I just figured there was some kind of wolf thing going on. I didn't really understand it, but I knew he wasn't going to hurt me. I trust you all."

With the last words, she glanced up nervously to make eye contact with Derek.

"You shouldn't." He growled out.

She stared at him questioningly.

"You shouldn't trust us. We're dangerous. You shouldn't forget that." He spoke quietly, almost sadly. "Both of you." He added, casting a sideways glance at Stiles, who had stopped shovelling food into his mouth and was looking anxiously between them both.

"Don't do that." Lydia breathed softly. "I'm not scared of you."

"WE'RE not scared of you." Stiles cut in, fixing Derek with a pointed look.

"You can't push us away that easily. Like it or not, we trust you." She said, leaning in closer.

"There's no getting rid of us now." Stiles grinned at him while Lydia flashed him a small, reassuring smile. Derek just looked more conflicted than ever. Their reassuring words seemed to be having the opposite effect on him.

"You don't get it." He mumbled quietly, almost to himself. "We can't... This isn't normal. You're just kids."

"Oh my god!" Lydia exclaimed suddenly, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. "Are we back here again? Change the record! Do we look like kids to you?" Her eyes flitted to Stiles, who was wearing his gaudy red hoodie with some obscure anime T shirt underneath. "Ok, well maybe HE does. But we're not. We're not kids. And even if we are? Who cares? We're all just friends, right?"

"Yep. We're all just friends." Stiles scoffed, disbelievingly.

"Friends." Derek agreed.

"Who kinda wanna sleep with each other." Stiles' blunt honesty cut through the moment and they both stared at him incredulously.

"Right. Well, on that note, let's pay that girl and get outta here. I believe it's Derek's shout for alpha-blocking us earlier." Derek choked on his coffee and looked up to see both Stiles and Lydia smirking at him. He was never going to get the hang of these constant mood changes.

"Alpha-blocked. I love that."

Derek managed to pay the check without causing anymore drama, clearly ignoring Heidi's obvious attempts at flirting with him. Lydia wanted to laugh at the way he kept his eyes cast down the whole time as Heidi giggled and pouted at him, but she knew he was trying, and she didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"So what are we doing today?" Stiles asked, as he bounced enthusiastically a few steps ahead of them.

"Well, I'm sorry to dissapoint, boys, but I've got two weeks of AP classes to catch up on so unfortunately I've got a date with my chemistry books."

Stiles' face fell for a second. He looked like a sad puppy as they settled back into Lydia's car. Despite his protests, Derek had eventually agreed that it made more sense for Lydia to drive them to the diner since he'd run to her house that morning. He still looked pretty unhappy with the situation though as he ducked his head to avoid the jellybean scented air freshener hanging from her mirror.

"But I'm guessing I'm dropping you both at Derek's?" She questioned, starting the car up and pulling out of the parking lot, pretending she couldn't see Heidi staring longingly after them from the diner window.

Stiles shifted in the back seat, leaning forward to poke his head between the two front seats.

"Yeah. Sounds good."

Derek said nothing, just tensed as Lydia rounded a corner way too fast. Lydia took his silence as agreement and bypassed Stiles' house, heading straight to Derek's.

Stiles was tense as the car pulled up outside of Derek's house. There was an awkward pause as Lydia turned off the engine and they all sat silently for a moment.

"So-" Stiles and Lydia both started at the same time.

"Thanks for breakfast," She said brightly, turning to face Derek. He nodded at her and she nodded back, mocking his formality.

Derek didn't say another word, just got out of the car and strolled to his door without waiting to see if Stiles was following him. He really was a man of few words.

Stiles however hovered awkwardly next to the car, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to decide how to bid Lydia goodbye. Derek just hadn't bothered, but then again, he hadn't spend the night in Lydia's bed, and Stiles somehow felt that his next move would be crucial. He settled on a kiss on the cheek. It was a classic.

He rested his elbow on the edge of her open window and leaned in.

"Bye Lydia." She whipped her head around at his words, and the peck that was meant for her cheek collided with her lips. A tiny startled noise escaped her throat as they froze like that for a moment, before her lips responded, pressing back against his in a chaste kiss. He pulled back after a second or two, and studied her face curiously. She bit her lip and looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Um.. Bye." She stuttered, before Stiles retracted his elbow from the window and she pulled away from the curb.

He turned, a goofy smile plastered across his face. He wasn't sure what this meant, but he was pretty sure it was something good. As he turned to the house, he saw Derek standing just outside the door, his brows furrowed into a deep frown. The smile dropped from Stiles' face for a second, before he regained some of his new found confidence, strolling confidently up to meet Derek.

"Don't look at me like that! I was going for the cheek! And besides, you said you didn't want her. You can't go all sourwolf on me now!"

Derek rolled his eyes at him and simply motioned for him to follow him inside.

It was only once they were inside Derek's apartment that it occured to Stiles that they were alone. They'd never been here alone before. There'd always been someone else around to hang out with but the apartment suddenly seemed very big and very quiet without the boisterous presence of the other wolves.

"Erm.. where are the others?" Stiles said, nervously.

"Out." Was Derek's only reply, as he shrugged out of his jacket and threw it on the back of a chair without a second glance at Stiles.

Stiles wasn't sure what to do with himself.

"So... what do you wanna do?" Stiles gulped as Derek stalked towards him, stopping right in front of him and for a second, Stiles thought he was going to hit him. Derek was staring down at him with an unreadable expression and Stiles took a shaky breath as Derek suddenly leaned in close to him. He reached around him to pick up the TV remote off the table behind Stiles, holding it up in front of him and smirking at Stiles' reaction to his close proximity.

"Oh," Stiles released a shaky laugh and threw himself down on the couch, willing himself to calm down.

"What do YOU wanna do?" Derek said, a small smile playing on his lips as he dropped down next to Stiles, their legs brushing against each other. Stiles frowned as he wondered if Derek was flirting with him. He could swear his tone was almost playful and he seemed content for their legs to stay pressed together, making no attempt to move further away even though there was plenty of room to do so. Stiles' eyes flitted down the remote control which lay dormant in Derek's hands. They were both staring at the TV screen, despite the fact that Derek hadn't turned it on yet. Perhaps he wasn't planning to? Stiles wasn't sure if he was reading too much into it, or if Derek was leaving the TV off on purpose, possibly a subtle hint that he wasn't interesting in anything that might be on TV?

Stiles considered his next move carefully. If he had thought he needed to be smooth with Lydia, it was nothing compared to the need to be smooth with Derek. One wrong move and he could end up with his throat torn out. The worst that would happen with Lydia was that she'd cry again. That said, the image of her tearstained face popped into Stiles' head and for a second, he couldn't decide which would be worse. Summoning the courage that his morning tryst with Lydia had given him, he took a deep breath, deciding to throw caution to the wind.

"What do I want to do? Hmm.." He said, thoughtfully, his tone light and teasing. He swivelled in his seat, turning to face Derek, who was frowning at him in confusion. "Something... like... this..." He leaned in deliberately slowly, giving Derek every oppurtunity to pull away. He didn't. Their lips met, and whatever Stiles had been expecting, it wasn't this. This kiss was soft and gentle, Derek's lips barely moving against Stiles' gentle movements. It was over before it had even really begun, Derek suddenly wrenching his lips away from Stiles' and pushing himself up off the couch in one graceful move. In a second he was over the other side of the room, pacing in a small circle, his thumb brushing nervously against his bottom lip.

"No." He spoke softly as Stiles just watched him pace across the room and for a moment, Stiles wasn't sure if he was talking to him or himself.

"What?"

"No." Derek repeated, louder this time.

"Oh." Stiles wanted to die. Derek was still pacing, staring at the floor to avoid making eye contact with the ever-reddening Stiles. "Oh ok, man. No problem. I um.. I was just trying something. Just kinda going with the vibe." He was rambling but for some reason he just couldn't stop the words coming out. Derek had stopped pacing but now seemed to be in a war with himself as to whether or not he lifted his head to look at Stiles. "What you said at Lydia's-I thought you meant that you wanted me and Lydia. Like, both of us. And I got all confused, I guess. And now I've made things really weird. Ugh, why do I always do this? Okay.. So... this is really awkward now and I'm just gonna go."

"Shut up." Derek ground the words out, and Stiles felt his heartbeat start pounding in his ears. Oh God. Derek was really mad at him. He should just get out of there, before Derek could show him just how angry he was. He got up out of his seat, willing his shaking legs to hold him up long enough to get out of there.

"Ok... I'm shutting up. Just wanted to say sorry and... like, let's just forget it, ok? I'm gonna go so let's not-"

In a heartbeat, Derek was across the room, standing right in front of him. Stiles gasped.

"Stop. Talking." Derek growled through gritted teeth. Stiles obeyed this time, making a small zipping motion across his lips, as Derek stared down at him, conflict contorting his face slightly.

"Fuck it," he breathed, before leaning down and closing the gap between them. His mouth crashed down on Stiles' and, whatever Stiles had been expecting from Derek's kiss - This was more like it. Stiles had never kissed a guy before (Scott didn't really count) but he'd often thought about it, wondering how it would feel. As Derek's rough stubble grazed his jaw, he realised this was somehow exactly what he had expected and also nothing like what he had expected. The kiss was hard, and hungry, Derek's tongue swiping into his mouth, showing him who was in control, but Derek's hands were also cupping the back of his neck, gently toying with the soft hair at the back of his neck. Stiles' own hands dangled limp and useless at his sides. He was too much in his own head to figure out what to do with them and he wasn't sure he could engage his brain enough to raise his arms at all. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts (did he like kissing Lydia better? It was different. But better? He coudln't decide) that he didn't even notice they were moving, taking small shuffling steps backwards, until suddenly Derek was pushing him up against a wall and Stiles was flashing back to that day in his room when Derek had done exactly the same thing.

"We've been here before." He heard himself mumbling against Derek's mouth. Derek pulled back to look at him for a moment before pushing his face against Stiles' neck, nuzzling and licking there.

"I remember. Your room." He murmured into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply.

Stiles tried to focus on breathing, as Derek's hands fisted in his hoodie, holding him even closer to him.

"I thought you were gonna tear me apart that day." Stiles chuckled nervously.

Derek stilled for a second, pulling away to flash Stiles a dark grin.

"I still might."

"Oh promises, promises..." Stiles breathed, his words trailing off as Derek's lips once again found his mouth, claiming it with a bruising kiss. He could feel the bulge in Derek's jeans as Derek leaned against him, pressing him even harder into the wall, his hands coming up to fist in the short hair at the back of Stiles' neck. Stiles couldn't help but revel in the fact that he, Stiles Stilinski: Uber Virgin had gone from a handful of awkward, fumbled kisses with random girls at parties, to nearly hooking up with two of the most beautiful people he'd ever seen, all in the space of a single day.

"Bedroom?" He managed to breathe out against Derek's mouth. Derek pulled back to look at him for a moment, his expression questioning.

"Your bedroom, Derek?" Stiles repeated breathlessly, staring back at Derek with a half smile playing on his lips.

"Er... the end of the hall but..." Derek faltered, dropping his head to focus on the hollow of Stiles' throat, breathing hard.

"But what, Derek?" Stiles murmured defiantly, his hands trailing slowly up Derek's arms to rest on the back of his neck.

Derek sighed deeply, raising his eyes to meet Stiles'.

"Are you-"

"Sure?" Stiles cut him off, finishing his sentence for him. "God, this old chestnut again! You're more insecure than I am. Will you just be a man and- Oof!"

Stiles' exasperated words were cut off as Derek suddenly reached and and lifted Stiles off his feet, throwing him over his shoulder and heading towards the end of the hall without another word. Stiles would have protested about being carried in such an undignified manner, if he didn't think it was the hottest thing ever, his brain only able to focus on the feel of Derek's hands clasped around his thighs, holding him in place.

His mind barely had time to register the fact that he had successfully managed to get to Derek's bedroom (achievement unlocked!) before he was unceremoniously dumped onto the bed, sinking into a thick deep blue quilt. Before he could get his bearings or rearrange himself into a slightly more graceful pose, Derek's body was on top of him, covering him completely, pushing him even further into the endless sea of navy cotton. Their mouths were crushed together once again and this time Stiles could only try to keep up as Derek set up a punishing pace, his hands digging into his hips, roaming round to the zip of his hoodie, fumbling to get it undone. Stiles pushed up slightly to help Derek shrug the brightly coloured jacket off his shoulders, chuckling at the slight growl that rumbled low in Derek's throat as he struggled to divest Stiles of the offending item. Derek's body covered his once more, his full weight pushing him down into the bed and Stiles became aware of just how much bigger Derek was than him. At this point, he was almost painfully hard and tried to buck his hips, seeking a little friction, but finding that he couldn't move at all. Derek was kissing him again, his hands fisting in the material of Stiles' t shirt and Stiles once again tried to push upwards, trying in vain to find a little relief and finding that a wall of muscle was stopping him from moving at all. A low growl rumbled from Derek's throat again, as he pulled and tugged at Stiles' t shirt, growing frustrated when he couldn't manouvre it over his head. Stiles wanted to explain that he would have more success if he allowed to him to push himself up to pull the shirt over his head, but as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, Derek's mouth claimed his once more, his tongue cutting off his words. Stiles could feel the vibrations of Derek's growl intensify as his movements grew more frantic, his fingers pulling at Stiles' shirt, and managing to knead at Stiles' flesh at the same time. Stiles could only try to keep up, clinging desperately to Derek, moaning as Derek thrust against him, finally gaining a little relief from the nagging bulge between his legs.

All of a sudden, Derek let out a roar of frustration, finally losing his patience with his inability to rid Stiles of his shirt. His hand swiped out and Stiles heard the tearing sound of fabric as his shirt ripped straight down the middle. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, silence descending on the room as Derek froze for a second before slowly raising his head from where it had been nuzzled against Stiles' jaw. Stiles gazed up at him in confusion as he met Derek's horrified expression, not understanding why the older man looked so tortured. In slow motion, Derek raised his hand from where it had been resting on Stiles' stomach to reveal long, yellow claws in place of his nails, stained with dark red. Stiles suddenly understood why his chest felt so wet and lowered his gaze to his torso, where the shredded front of his shirt was flapped open, revealing three long, bleeding claw marks, startlingly red against the pale white of his skin.

Stiles' mind went blank and his instincts took over, scrambling backwards up the bed, wriggling out from under Derek, who was still frozen in place, staring at his bloodied claws like he'd never seen them before. Sitting up against the headboard, Stiles gingerly held his hands over the bleeding marks on his chest, clutching at them in shock as his breaths came out in short, terrified pants. He wrapped the now ruined sides of his shirt around him, pressing them against the wounds, feeling the hot blood soak into the fabric immediately. He chanced a glance at Derek, who was still crouched at the other end of the bed, staring at his hand and looking like he was going to be sick. Stiles didn't care.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Derek's head snapped up, like he'd forgotten Stiles was there. His eyes flitted down to Stiles' chest, where his hands were clutching the scraps of fabric against his body and he immediately reached to pull his own t-shirt over his head.

"What are you doing?" Stiles stuttered out at him, the anger in his voice now replaced with disbelief. "Stop taking your clothes off. The mood's gone, in case you hadn't noticed."

"No... for..." Derek struggled to make his voice work, and Stiles began to seriously wonder if he was going into shock. Derek held his balled up shirt out to Stiles, hurt crossing his features as Stiles visibly flinched away from him. "To stop the bleeding."

Stiles reached forward cautiously, as though approaching a wild animal, and snatched the shirt out of Derek's outstretched hand.

"I'm so sor-"

"I know." Stiles cut him off, abruptly, not looking up from tending to his chest. He had quickly realised it wasn't as bad as either of them thought. The bleeding had already stopped, and Stiles gently pulled the ruined material away from where it was beginning to stick to the drying blood.

"I was trying to be... I thought you wanted me to be..." Derek fumbled to find the right words, as Stiles glared at him warily from across the bed.

"What? Thought I wanted you to try to tear my lungs out?"

"You told me to be a man..." Derek replied, in the smallest, most pitiful voice Stiles had ever heard him use. Rage bubbled up in Stiles at the thought of Derek trying to excuse his behaviour.

"Yes, Derek! A man! Not a fucking wolf!" Stiles uneasily got to his feet, shooting Derek a look that told him not to try and help him. He rose to his full height as Derek dropped his gaze to his hands, looking like a scolded child.

"How dare you?! How dare you try to pin this on me?"

"I wasn't... I didn't mean to... I lost control..." He trailed off, noticing Stiles start to pace angrily, still clutching his torso.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod..." Stiles began muttering under his breath, running his free hand through his hair, his eyes suddenly wide and frantic.

"Derek... What if...? How deep do scratches need to be to...?"

Derek suddenly caught up to Stiles' train of thought and jumped off the bed, to stand in front of him. Stiles stopped pacing and stared up at Derek, his wide, frightened eyes meeting Derek's tortured blue pools. For a second, Derek thought he was forgiven, as they shared a long look, the silence stretching on between them.

"Let me look..." Derek muttered, reaching for Stiles, halting when Stiles held up a hand to stop him, taking a step back away from him.

"Don't. Don't touch me." Stiled flashed him a dark look from under his lashes, ignoring the broken look on Derek's face. Without another word, he turned and hobbled towards the door.

"If I've turned you... I'll never forgive myself."

Stiles paused at the door, keeping his back to Derek.

"Yeah. That'd make two of us."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Derek to breakdown alone, with only the metallic stench of Stiles' blood for company.

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**I'M SOOOOOOOOOOOO SORRRY! **

**I can't believe I left it so long without posting! I'm genuinely really, really sorry and I hope you haven't all lost interest. *fingers crossed***

**I wish I had some interesting reason for not updating but I honestly don't know what happened - One day I was all inspired and churning out chapters almost daily, and next thing my muse just leaves me and doesn't come back for three months. I tried to finish this chapter sooo many times and just didn't know where I wanted to take it. And then today, my inspiration just came back all of a sudden and I came up with an idea for the next few chapters (maybe through to the end, even?).**

**I just wanna thank everyone for being so awesome! I got so many reviews and private messages from people encouraging me to carry on writing and it seriously meant a lot. I think the only reason I've carried on with this when I felt so uninspired is because I had such lovely messages that I felt bad for letting people down by not finishing this. I promise I wont leave it another 3 months till the next update! Sorry again, guys. Thanks for sticking with me! I really appreciate all the encouragement. **

**And I hope this chapter is worth the wait. Lemme know what you think. Love you lots like jellytots! xxx**

**Also, credit to AvaRosier for penning the term "alpha-blocked". I love it! **

**Oh, and P.S what are we all thinking about the new season? I have no words for how much I love it! Isaac is getting cutesy lines and Stiles and Lydia are teaming up to solve murders like a sexy Scooby gang and... Derek's finally getting laid! Our little alpha's all grown up! I'm so proud. Thoughts? Impressions? Theories? Reviews of Derek's kissing technique in enthusiastic capslock? All welcome! ;)**


	23. I Want You to Stay

**Hey gang! Thanks for all the lovely reviews since my last update. You guys... I mean, shucks... you guys are awesome! I'm sorry I haven't been personally replying to all the reviews. I know I usually do but I have a bit of a backlog from when I went on my little hiatus, so I'm gonna try to reply to everyone soon, since it really does mean a lot that people would take the time out of their day to review. Anyhoo, I worked hard to try and get this chapter done without TOO long of a wait. That's why it's a little bit short and a bit... teaser-ish. ;) I have a bit of the next chapter written but this seemed like a good (though probably annoying) natural stopping point. Enjoy dark, tortured Stiles! **

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"Stiles?..." Lydia took a moment to take in Stiles' appearance as he stood swaying on her doorstep. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, dwarfed by the huge grey v neck shirt she was sure she recognised as Derek's, and he looked vaguely dazed. But most worrying was the large, dark blood stain that had seeped into the front of the grey material.

"Oh my god, Stiles! What happened?"

Stiles swayed forward slightly, and she instinctively wrapped an arm around his waist, and positioned his hand round her shoulders, helping him into the house.

"What happened, Stiles? Where's Derek?" she asked softly, depositing him onto her sofa, unable to keep the fear out of her voice.

Stiles snorted, the first sound he'd made since he got there and turned to fix her with a dark look.

"Who do you think did this?"

"What? Derek? Derek did this?" Her voice dripped with disbelief as she gingerly raised his shirt to look at the deep scratches across Stiles' torso.

"It was an accident." Stiles said quietly, but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than her.

"An accident? How does something like this happen by accident?" She asked, incredulously. "Hang on. Come upstairs. I don't want to have to explain why the couch is covered in blood."

She wrapped her arm around him and yanked him off the couch, noticing that he didn't seem to lean as heavily on her as he did before. Lydia hoped this was a good sign.

"So, you're telling me Derek did this?"

"Yep." Stiles bit the word out, panting slightly from the effort of trying to drag himself up the stairs.

"But it was an accident?"

"Yep."

They struggled up the stairs in silence for a moment, while Lydia waited for Stiles to elaborate.

"Wow. I think you've been spending too much time with Derek. His strong, silent vibe's rubbing off on you." Lydia tried to lighten the mood, but her comment earned nothing more than a slight snort from Stiles.

They reached her room and Lydia didn't hesitate to deposit him on her bed and flounce out of the room, returning moments later with a first aid kit.

"Take your shirt off." She commanded, busying herself with taking various first aid items out of the box.

He obeyed, gingerly pulling the overly-large grey shirt over his head and giving her his first real smirk since he arrived there.

"Ya know, Lyd, if you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do was ask."

Lydia flashed him her best "per-lease" look, but couldn't help the relieved smile that crossed her features. She was glad to see a glimmer of the Stiles she knew, since she barely recognised the dark, tortured boy who'd shown up at her doorstep.

She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Stiles' wounds. She had feared the worst when he'd showed up, all covered in blood, but she could tell they weren't anywhere near as bad as she had first thought.

Stiles had his face screwed up, like he was preparing himself for bad news.

"So... how bad is it? How many stitches we talkin'?" He asked, peering down at her through one scrunched up eye.

She gazed at his chest thoughtfully, cocking her head to the side like she was counting.

"Hm... No more than 40."

"40? 40?!" Stiles spluttered. "Oh god, oh god!"

"Stiles. Stiles!" She snapped, to get his attention. They locked eyes and she smiled at him. "Relax. I'm fucking with you."

"Holy god, Lydia! You could give a man a heart attack like that!"

"Well, if you see any men around, be sure to warn them." She retorted, without skipping a beat, flashing him a wicked smile before grabbing more supplies from the box.

Stiles stuck his bottom lip out and pouted, like a petulant child. She pretended to ignore him, tearing open a sterilising wipe and reaching for him, only stopping in her tracks when he flinched away from her.

"Oh god... Are you sulking now?" He nodded, still pouting with his face held high in the air, though a smile threatened to pull at the corners of his mouth.

"Ok, you want to prove what a man you are? This is gonna sting. And by sting, I mean hurt like hell. Show me what a big, grown up man you are, and I'll reward you."

He lowered his face to her, narrowing his eyes with a smile playing on his lips.

"Are you trading sexual favours for good behaviour? You'd fair well in jail, Martin."

She rolled her eyes, and without hesitating for a second, pressed the wipe against his chest. As usual, Lydia had been right - it did hurt like hell, earning a sharp intake of breath and a small flinch from Stiles. But, with Lydia's deal playing on his mind, he didn't make a sound, simply closing his eyes and holding on tighter to the edge of Lydia's bed. Within a minute, the pain had passed and

Lydia was able to smooth the dressing over the now-clean scratches.

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Oh no... It was a laugh riot." Stiles said bitterly, as Lydia scooped up the first aid supplies and started to get up to put them back in the box.

"Whoa. Where do you think you're going?" He said, lightly grabbing her arm to stop her from getting up.

"I was promised a reward. I think I was very brave."

"Oh.. _very_ brave. I really liked the part where you closed your eyes and looked like you were about to pass out." She teased, meeting his eyes. He said nothing, just carried on looking at her, his eyes unconsciously flitting to her lips. She rolled her eyes and sighed, like this was all some big chore to her, and then leaned down to plant a chaste peck on his lips. Starting to pull back, she was surprised when he gripped her arms, keeping her in place and parting his lips slightly to deepen the kiss for a few moments longer. She pulled away, slightly breathless, still surprised by Stiles' forwardness.

"Ok, ok. That's enough. You weren't THAT brave." She busied herself with clearing up, trying to distract herself from how flustered he'd made her, and quickly scurried over to put the box away in her ensuite.

"They really weren't that bad, Stiles." She shouted through to him from the bathroom. "The scratches, I mean. They'd already stopped bleeding. I think they've even started healing already."

"Healing?" Stiles repeated, sounding disturbed.

Lydia returned a moment later, to find Stiles gripping the side of her bed again, pale as a sheet.

"Stiles?" Lydia tried to get his attention, timidly. "What's wrong?"

"How much had I healed?"

"I don't know. I'm not a doctor, Stiles." She answered slowly, still unsure what had caused this sudden down turn.

Stiles suddenly leaned forward, throwing his head into his hands. She could hear muffled, panicked mumbling. Unsure whether he was talking to her or not, she gingerly stepped towards him.

"Stiles..? You're kinda freaking me out." The mumbling stopped but his head remained in his hands, his fingers raking through his hair.

She anxiously approached him, eventually sitting next to him on the bed and reaching slowly for his hand, pausing slightly when he mumbled something she didn't hear.

"What?" She reached for him again, gently pulling his hand away from his face. He turned to look at her, his tortured eyes meeting hers.

"I said I don't want to be a werewolf." She gasped at the recognition of what he'd said and suddenly realised why he reacted so fearfully to the prospect of healing quickly.

"Oh..." She breathed, softly, unsure of what to say. His hand was still in hers and she gave it a squeeze that she hoped came across as reassuring.

"Is that why Derek did this? Was he trying to turn you?"

"No, no. It really was an accident. He lost control and... It was an accident." He repeated firmly.

"But it IS possible to be turned by a scratch if it's deep enough. And, I mean, they were pretty deep, right?"

He didn't give her a chance to answer, just ploughing on breathlessly.

"I didn't want this. There might have been a time when I considered it, but things are different now. I've see what this can do to people... To families. What am I gonna tell my dad? I can't keep this from him. He'll have to find out everything and who knows if I'll be able to keep him safe." He was talking so fast, Lydia could barely keep up, the panicked words tumbling from his mouth in one breathless tangle. Tears sprang to his eyes as he seemed to run out of steam, his words slowing slightly, his voice wavering.

"I didn't want this, Lydia. I didn't want this. I didn't..." He trailed off as she suddenly grabbed his face in both her hands, looking him straight in the eye.

"Stiles! Stop. Stop!" His wild, panicked eyes met hers and he instantly seemed to calm a little.

"We don't know anything yet. You have to calm down, ok?" He nodded slightly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"They weren't that deep. I think they'd have to be pretty deep to turn you."

"But what if-" His worried words were cut off as she suddenly closed the gap between their faces and kissed him. The kiss only lasted a second, before Stiles wrenched himself away from her, jumping up off the bed.

"Don't do this, Lydia. I don't want you to kiss me because you feel sorry for me."

"That's not why-"

"I'm just gonna go." He took a step away from her, stopping in his tracks when a hand flung out to grab his arm. In one graceful movement, she pushed herself off the bed and stepped round him to stand in front of him.

"I don't feel sorry for you, Stiles. Against my better judgement, I actually like you." She made it sound like an insult, but Stiles was still elated. She'd actually said it outloud - no game playing, no lies.

She actually liked him.

"And I don't want you to go." She looked down at his bare chest and licked her lips slightly, looking back up at him through her lashes. Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper. "I want you to stay."

Before Stiles could register the impact of what she'd just said, his lips took over his actions and he was kissing her, his hands tangled in her hair, her body flush against his. Any earlier concerns about her just feeling sorry for him were wiped away as her hands wrapped around his back, creeping down to grab his ass and pull him even closer against her. Their mouths fought for control. Lydia couldn't help but think how different this was from the last time they'd been together. The nervous, timid Stiles that had been apparent the last time they'd been alone in her room was gone. His hands found the hem of her shirt and started dragging it up her body, and Lydia was almost taken aback for a moment by his confidence and forwardness. She realised that despite her reassurances that he would be fine, Stiles was still worried about the scratches, worried that tonight would be the last night for them to be together like this. A thought crossed Lydia's mind - if the scratches really were deep enough, there was another possibility, other than turning. She tried to push that thought out of her mind, realising that the same thoughts were probably coursing through Stiles' mind right now. He carried on kissing her, and she kissed him back, though she grew more and more distracted by the direction her thoughts had taken. If he noticed she was troubled at all, he didn't say anything, his mouth continuing to move frantically against hers like he was a man who had nothing to lose. What if he was right? What if tonight was her last chance to be with him as he was now? Or, worse, what if the scratch didn't take? She couldn't bear to think about it.

"I don't want you to change." She whispered against his lips. She hadn't really meant to say it outloud but the words had tumbled out regardless.

He stopped kissing her, his chest heaving against hers and pulled back to look her in the eye.

"I like _you_. I like you as _you_." She said softly. "I don't want you to change. I can't stop thinking about what might happen."

Stiles tenderly brushed her hair out of her eyes, and let his hand trace down the length of her arm to take her hand. He tugged slightly, leading her towards the bed.

"So let me make you forget."

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**I'm such a tease! I'm just awful, aren't I? Mwahaha... **


	24. It's Go Time!

**Oh what a day! I messaged some of you earlier, explaining that it might be a while till the next update because I smashed my laptop (jagerbombs+natural clumsiness+sadness at turning the grand old age of 22) and I had a completed chapter stuck on it. I assumed it would be a long process that would involve ordering some sort of complicated cable adapter from amazon and then probably not understanding how to do it and having to flirt with one of the computer nerds at work so they'd come and do it for me. But fear not! I managed to connect it to my old PC monitor and retrieve this chapter. I felt all independent. Go me! So the "couple of weeks" wait has been reduced to like, 3 hours. You lucky things! Enjoy! **

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_Stiles tenderly brushed her hair out of her eyes, and let his hand trace down the length of her arm to take her hand. He tugged slightly, leading her towards the bed._

_"So let me make you forget."_

She giggled softly and allowed him to lead her back over to the bed, looking up at him coyly through her lashes. They stopped about a foot from the bed and he took her face in both of his hands, kissing her softly and sweetly. All their kisses so far had either been nervous and tentative, or passionate and furious, but this was different. Compared to his earlier panic, Stiles now seemed almost eerily calm, possibly as a response to her own little panicked outburst. She forced herself to push any worries and thoughts out of her head and relaxed into his touch, sighing against his mouth when his hands slipped from her face, running gently down the lengths of her arms. The kiss deepened slightly and she brought her own hands up to clasp at the back of his neck, pulling their bodies close together. She didn't realise they were moving until her knees hit the back of her bed and she stumbled slightly, gazing up gratefully at Stiles when he quickly wrapped his hands around her waist, catching her and lowering her slowly to the bed. She scrambled backwards, towards the head of the bed as Stiles kicked off his shoes and clambered onto the bed after her, covering her body with his own and catching her mouth with his once again.

The passion of their earlier fumble returned as he tugged at the camisole she had been wearing under her top, eventually succeeding in dragging it over her head, leaving her heaving chest bare to him. This time, without hesitation or the need for encouragement, he pressed his face between her breasts, pressing soft kisses in the pale, smooth valley there. He shuffled over slightly, pausing at the pink bud of her nipple, giving it a tiny, experimental lick before latching his mouth around it, swirling his tongue around. Her back arched off the bed, and her fingers moved to tangle in his short hair as his teeth lightly grazed the delicate skin there, before moving over to lavish the other one with the same attention. A low moan escaped her mouth and he dragged himself back up her body to swallow it, pushing his lips against hers, his tongue swiping out to lick at her lower lip.

Slowly, tantalisingly slowly, he trailed his fingers down her sides, stroking down the sides of her breasts, ignoring the way she arched up into his touch. His fingers continued their path down, making her squirm as they lightly traced her sides, tickling her as they came to rest on her hip bones, hovering at the waistband of her pants.

"Lydia Martin?" He murmured breathlessly against her mouth, barely breaking their kiss. "Are you wearing sweatpants?" He teased, feigning disbelief.

She giggled, rolling her eyes up at him for a second before moving her mouth to his ear, her lips grazing his earlobe.

"Not for much longer," she whispered seductively in his ear.

He growled lightly at her words, just a small, low rumble in his throat as her teeth closed over his earlobe, nipping slightly. His thumbs slipped under the waistband of her pants and without warning, he pulled away from her, whipping her sweatpants off in one graceful move. Shivering slightly from the loss of his body heat, she pushed herself up onto her knees to be level with him, holding the tops of his toned arms for support.

Her eyes flickered down to the stark white bandages against his pale, freckled skin. Lowering her face to his chest, she started pressing a line of soft, gentle kisses to the edges of the white square, her hands wandering down his chest to his belt buckle.

"Your turn." She panted out against his chest, as she fumbled to undo the Superman belt buckle that had been their stopping point last time. He raised himself up slightly on his knees to help her, almost holding his breath as her tiny hands brushed against him through his jeans. He couldn't help his eyes flitting to the window. He was almost expecting Derek to turn up and alpha-block them again, and he almost died of relief when, a few seconds later, the buckle was undone, followed swiftly by the button and zip of his jeans. He quickly realised he was going to have to stand up to get his jeans off, and nearly fell over trying to rush, since the feeling of not touching her was enough to kill him. The moment he spent standing next to the bed was the first chance he'd had to really look at her. She was kneeling in the middle of the bed, naked except for a lacey pair of black panties, gazing up at him with an unreadable expression. He chuckled awkwardly as he ungracefully managed to kick his jeans off and clambered back onto the bed to join her, this time laying her back against the pillows, and covering her with his body. His lips moved to her jaw, pressing urgent kisses there, tracing a path down to her collarbone when a tiny voice stopped him.

"I'm kinda nervous." She panted out, so quietly he almost missed it. He pulled back immediately, to look her deep in the eye.

"What? Do you... do you not wanna do this?"

"No, no." She tried to cut him off.

"Is this too fast?" He tried to pull away from her, moving to get off her, stopping when she grasped at the back of his neck, keeping him close to her.

"No. I just... I don't think I've ever actually done this with someone who really cared about me before." She dropped her gaze to stare at his chest, suddenly feeling stupid for saying anything. "I just don't want to disappoint you."

He breathed out an incredulous laugh.

"Are you kidding me?" He said gently, cupping her chin to raise her face to meet his again. "You could never disappoint me, Lydia. When are you gonna get that through that genius brain of yours?" He tapped her on the side of the head, brushing her hair out of her eyes at the same time.

She smiled shyly at him, biting her lip.

"Hm.. I might have to hear it once or twice more." He grinned down at her and kissed her again, this time slow and sweet.

"We don't have to do this, Lydia... if you don't want to."

Lydia wished she hadn't said anything, worried she had killed the mood with her insecurities. She decided to regain control, the best way she knew how.

"Oh, I want to," she assured him confidently, swinging her leg over his to sit up and straddle him. She could feel the bulge in his boxers pressing against her core and shamelessly ground against him, enjoying the way his head dropped back against the pillows and his mouth flopped open. She moved again when his hands flew to her hips, holding her in place.

"Stop." He panted. "You need to stop doing that or this is gonna be over before it's begun."

She giggled wickedly, until Stiles suddenly flipped them over, so she was underneath him, her hair fanned out around her like a strawberry blonde halo on the pillow.

His hand came to rest on her hip, his fingertips caressing her ass cheek, his thumb toying with the edge of her panties. Capturing her mouth with his, his thumbs slid into the sides and began to inch them down her legs, slow enough so that she could stop him any time she wanted to. She didn't.

Her breath hitched in her throat as he sat back slightly to take in all of her. She wanted to squirm away from the way he gazed at her hungrily, revering her naked body. She'd never felt so exposed as Stiles was silent for a moment, staring at her with raw adoration.

His hand traced down her taught stomach to the neatly trimmed thatch of strawberry curls between her legs, his eyes flitting between where his hands was and her wide green eyes, watching her expression as he touched her experimentally. She stared back at him almost defiantly as his fingers slipped lower, teasing her, stroking her, only breaking eye contact when a finger slipped inside of her. Her head dropped back on the pillow and she let her eyes slip closed as he touched her. She had had more experienced lovers, of course, but it had been so long since anyone had touched her like this, and the feel of someone else's hand there instead of her own was enough to drive her crazy with the need to push this further.

"I want you," she panted out, hating how desperate she sounded.

"Now? Like...?" He spluttered, his personal investigation of her body suddenly ceasing.

She nodded innocently.

"Now," she confirmed, biting her lip and moving her hands to the band of his boxers.

He looked down at where her hands were, slowly starting to inch his boxers down, his expression vaguely shocked.

"Right now? Oh. Ok. It's go time," he babbled to himself, as Lydia gently pushed him back onto the pillows, while continuing to inch his boxers down his legs. His erection sprang free, and Stiles was suddenly more nervous than he had ever been in his life. If he thought Lydia had been worried about disappointing him, it was nothing compared to the raw terror he was feeling now, as he lay naked underneath the girl he had loved since the fifth grade, squirming under her unreadable scrutiny. She raised a single eyebrow at him, a gesture that told Stiles almost nothing of her verdict on him.

She breathed out a soft, not-unkind laugh upon seeing his terrified expression, and leaned down back over him, planting a chaste kiss against his mouth and hovering millimetres above his lips.

"It's always the skinny ones," she whispered, licking her lips and glancing down again. Stiles could have cried with relief that he had passed the inspection.

Before he could relax too much though, she was leaning over him, reaching for something in her nightstand, her breasts inches above his face, before sitting back on her heels with a small foil square in her hand. Ripping it open with her teeth and spying his slightly nervous expression, she smiled broadly at him.

"Relax." She swung her leg over his, straddling him, and leaning down to capture his mouth in a bruising kiss. He felt her hands drift down to his member, now almost painfully hard, throbbing between their two bodies, but was so consumed by the feeling of her naked body writhing above him that he didn't even notice her skilled hands rolling the condom over him until he felt her lift herself up on her knees, crawling up his body a little. She broke their kiss and leaned back slightly, looking him straight in the eye, lining him up with her entrance, before slowly, almost painfully slowly sinking down on him. She stilled, giving them both time to adjust to the feeling, both of them letting their eyes close and their foreheads bump together. His hands were balled up fists, tangled in the sheets either side of him, his face a picture of utter concentration. Struggling to fight for control, worried this would all be over much too soon, he took a deep breath, opening his eyes to find Lydia staring down at him kindly.

"You ok?" she whispered, their foreheads still touching, their eyes blurring as they tried to keep eye contact with each other. His hand slipped into her hair, his thumb reached out to caress her cheek.

"Better than ok." He forced out through gritted teeth. "You ok?"

She nodded, biting her lip.

"Been a while," she murmured, before starting to move, ever so slightly, elliciting a groan from Stiles.

Lydia set up a slow, gentle rhythm, rolling her hips with every little thrust. His hands flew to her hips, his fingertips digging into her ass cheeks, urging her on as she picked up the pace, their pants filling the room.

She leaned back on her heels, changing the angle, ripping another groan from Stiles' throat.

"Ugh.. Lyd.. Not.. gonna... last..." he panted out, his hips starting to involuntarily buck upwards to meet her thrust for thrust.

Her hand flew to just above where their bodies were joined, her fingers frantically circling her sensitive nub.

"Hold on..." she mumbled, barely audible above the pants and moans filling the room. Her movements grew more frenzied, her fingers dancing frantically while her bucking hips grew more and more eractic. Stiles' fingers dug almost painfully into her flesh and his whole face contorted in concentration.

She grew silent for a moment before throwing her head back, arching her back, coming with a high pitched squeak. The sight of her coming undone was enough to push Stiles over the edge, finding the release he'd been desperately denying himself until she found hers. His groan joined her shrill cry, and their hands fumbled to find each other, their fingers intertwining as they rode out their orgasms together. She collapsed to the side, rolling off him in a mess of boneless limbs, as their breathing slowly returned to normal.

Her leg remained casually flung across his thighs, her sweaty body still pressed against his side and he wrapped an arm around her naturally, pulling her close to him, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

He laughed breathlessly to himself, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. She lifted her head slightly, glancing at him quizzically.

"Hey Lydia? I'm not a virgin anymore."

"Yeah, I know. I was there."

"High five?" He lifted a hand, cautiously, wilting under the unimpressed glare Lydia shot him from where she was resting against his shoulder.

"Ok. No high five. So, what do we do now?"

She yawned sweetly.

"Now? We nap. I don't know about you, but I was up very early having a fumble with some virgin."

She laughed to herself, and nuzzled her face back into the crook of his neck, her hand sweeping across his torso to rest on his chest. His mind was still buzzing, running through the events of the afternoon and he doubted he'd ever be able to sleep, so he was surprised when he felt his eyelids growing heavy. He let the slow, steady sound of her breathing start to lull him to sleep, enjoying the feel of her breasts heaving against his side. He was almost asleep when a small voice piped up.

"Stiles?"

"Mm?" He murmured sleepily.

"Good job."

He breathed a laugh into her hair.

"Back at ya." He replied, not missing the ridiculousness of their exchange, and not caring.

He snuggled her even closer to her, drifting into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

**Yay! Stiles isn't a virgin anymore! Sooo... actual smut! Proper smut! What do we all think? Was it ok? Was it good for you? ;)**

**As always, reviews are love! Thank you so much for all your reviews and favourites and follows and whatnot. You're awesome, and I hope this little Stydia fumble didn't disappoint. I tried to keep it vaguely realistic and fairly awkward, but with a rose-tinted little skew. **

**xxx**


	25. The Evening After the Afternoon Before

**Thanks for all the positive feedback on the Stydia sex! Glad you liked it, you bunch of horndogs! Ha! Anyhoo, hope y'all enjoy this chapter! There's some twists and turns coming up so I'm hoping you're not all so genius that you see them all coming. Enjoy!**

* * *

Lydia awoke from a peaceful slumber to the dreadful feeling that something was wrong. Her eyes flickered open slowly, and she stared up at her ceiling for a moment, letting the events of the afternoon slowly filter back to her, a sleepy smile crossing her face.

The smile quickly dropped though at the sound of loud heaving right next to her. Suddenly hyper aware of her surroundings, her head whipped to the side to see Stiles facing away from her, hanging over the side of her bed. The horrible wet retching sound filled the room again, followed by a painful groaning cough.

For a split second, she observed the taut muscles in Stiles' back stretch and contract as he held himself in the uncomfortable position, as his body was again wracked by a sudden heave, before she sprang into action, crossing the small space between them. A small, selfish part of her really hoped he was aiming at the waste paper basket next to her bed, before she shook herself, reaching out to him, her hand pausing tentatively, inches away from the smooth pale skin of his back.

"Don't." He choked out, his word coming out breathless and hoarse. She paused, pulling the sheet up around herself, suddenly nervous.

"Stiles?" She queried in a small voice, taking a deep breath and closing the distance between his back and her hand. His skin was burning up, covered in a light sheen of sweat and dangerously hot to the touch, and the second her hand made contact, his whole body tensed like she'd burned him.

"Stiles? Oh my god, you're burning up." She spluttered, pulling the sheet around her as she shuffled across the bed, to kneel behind him.

"Don't... Don't touch me." He croaked, his voice barely coming out as more than a hoarse whisper. He tried to flinch away from where her cool hands were touching him all over, trying to pull at his shoulders to sit him back upright. He struggled against her for a moment, his breath coming out as short, harsh pants, before she succeeded, managing him to pull his head up from where it had been hanging limply over the edge of her bed.

She gasped as she pulled his face up to look at him, her worst fears being realised. He flopped back on the pillow, his eyes closed, his breaths coming out much too shallow, his deathly white face covered in a sheen of sweat. But the most alarming, and the most telling part of his appearance was the trickle of thick black liquid that was dripping from the corners of his mouth and down the column of his throat. Her mouth flapped open in horror as she glanced down at the bandage. The pure white square of gauze she had applied last night was now stained a dark red colour and before she could think about what she was doing, she reached out and ripped the dressing from his sickly skin, revealing the scratches that she had thought to be healing last night. She now saw how wrong she was, and nearly gagged at the sight of the open, weeping wounds, oozing dark, black-ish red blood.

Stiles groaned and his eyes flickered open to meet hers, his breaths coming out in laboured pants.

"Guess I'm not wolf material after all, huh?" He choked out, breathing out a small, mirthless laugh.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she gazed at him, another pained groan tearing through his body, his back arching with pain.

A million things to say, a million things she needed to tell him crossed through her mind, but she couldn't will herself to say anything. Her mouth flapped open uselessly, as tears ran down her face, her breath hitching in her throat.

"I... I don't..." She started, her small voice trailing off as Stiles' eyes flickered shut, expelling a long, shuddering breath.

A shocked sob rushed out of Lydia's mouth as she waited for his next breath. It never came. He remained still and motionless, thick black blood still oozing down his chest, which was now no longer rising and falling with shakey breaths.

Lydia could not stop the distinctly human howl of anguish that was ripped from low in her chest, confused when she heard her name whispered from far away, barely audible above her pained scream.

"LYDIA!"

She awoke with a start, her limbs flailing desperately, her face hot and wet with tears. Her eyes flew open, confused for a second when she found herself gazing into Stiles' wide, worried brown eyes. He was leaning over her, his hands roughly pinning her shoulders down to the bed, as she carried on unconsciously thrashing against him for a second. Her whole face contorted with confusion, as she slowly stopping bucking against him, her breathing slowing to a more normal pace.

"You're ok, you're ok." Stiles was repeating, over and over, willing her to believe it.

"Stiles?" I..." She glanced around the room, then back up at him, trying to get her bearings.

"I dreamed you were... I dreamed you were gone."

Stiles still looked vageuly terrified, and Lydia realised she must have caused quite a scene, even in her sleep. She hadn't had any nightmares since before Peter left. She'd forgotten how bad they could get.

"I'm not going anywhere." He reassured her, still breathing heavily from the panic of watching her worst fears realised in her dreams.

All the tension seemed to run out of his body as she finally looked up at him with recognition, finally believing he was here and he was safe. She gazed up at him, still breathing hard, her heart still pounding in her chest, when she suddenly reached her hands round the back of his neck, pulling him down to her in a searing kiss. His mouth opened in surprise, not expecting such a move, and she took the oppourtunity to swipe her tongue into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip with her teeth.

He struggled to keep up with the bruising pace she was setting, her teeth tugging at his lip, her hands tangling roughly in his hair. She arched her back up against him, her body aching with need. Her fingers drifted down to his shoulders, digging into his skin, needing to convince herself he was really there, and that this was real, what was happening right now was real.

The sheet was tangled between them, stopping any skin on skin contact, and Lydia growled as she kicked out with her legs, struggling to pull the sheets off them both. Stiles lifted himself off her slightly, reaching between them and ripping the sheet from them both, tossing it to the floor. His body was against hers in a second, pushing her back down into the pillows, his growing erection pushing insistently against her thigh. He moved to kiss her jaw, his teeth grazing lightly along her collarbone as she threw her head back to give him better access. A soft moan filled the room as his hand hungrily traced down her body, his thumb lightly tugging at her nipple, before curling around her ass cheek, pulling her thigh up to wrap around his side.

Considering how much foreplay they'd engaged in earlier on, Stiles was surprised at how ready they both were with only a few minutes of passionate kissing. He still had so much to learn. He clambered over her to press her down into the mattress with the full weight of his body, his hard length pressed against her lower belly, her legs opening to wrap around his back, holding him close. He licked the sensitive spot in the crook of her neck, feeling her uneven pulse skittering under his tongue, relishing in the feel of her nails raking red paths down his back. His hips pulled back slightly, as he lined himself up, hooking a hand under her knee, holding her open to him when the sound of a door slamming downstairs caused them both to freeze in their current obsene position.

They shared a horrified look before Lydia threw her head back to look at the clock next to her bed. Neither of them had noticed it before, but they'd been asleep for much longer than either of them thought. The bright "7:18pm" flashed ominously at them from her bedside table.

"Shit!" Lydia whispered, breathlessly. "My mom!"

As if on cue, to confirm Lydia's suspicions, a bright, chipper voice rang out from downstairs.

"Lydia? Honey? You home?"

She panted for a second, before shrugging up at Stiles and taking a deep breath.

"Yeah. Hi mom!" She shouted back, hoping that would be enough to keep the woman away.

Their worst fears were realised when they heard the almost deafening sound of the first step being taken up the stairs.

"Holy shit!" He murmured under his breath and, before the second step could be taken, Lydia was pushing Stiles off her, while Stiles needed no encouragement to scramble off the bed, managing to pull his disgarded boxers on, while they both flailed around her room silently. She managed to pull her sweatpants and camisole on in the time it took Stiles to even find his clothes under the sheet that had been taking up most of the floor. She scooped the sheet up and shook it out, spreading it back over the bed, if not quite as neatly as before. His clothes now revealed on her floor, Stiles just about managed to scoop them up before Lydia was silently padding over to him, pushing him backwards.

"In the closet! In the closet!" She whispered breathlessly, shoving him roughly towards the open closet door before he could pull any of his clothes on. She turned to the mirror, hopelessly trying to smooth down the tangled lion's mane that was her hair, rubbing under her eyes to rub away the smeared mascara there. The omninous footsteps continued as Stiles slid quietly into her closet, trying to find a place amongst the rails of designer dresses and rows of oversized handbags.

"Honey? There was a nice young man waiting outside for you. Said he really needed to talk to you." Lydia froze, turning from the mirror to meet Stiles' eyes, their faces frozen in matching horrified expressions. They had thought the situation couldn't get any worse, and then her mother had dropped that bombshell.

They froze, Stiles half in, half out of Lydia's closet, Lydia with her hair gathered at the nape of her neck, listening as they heard muffled quiet voices out on the stairs.

"Honey?" A light knock rapped on her door.

"Just a second," Lydia called back, springing into action and tying her hair up into a messy bun, and simutaneously crossing the room to slam to closet door with her foot, forcing Stiles back into the jungle of satins and cotton. She managed to throw herself down onto her bed, landing in a nonchalant heap, just as the door swung open to reveal her mother standing in her doorway, looking slightly concerned.

"You ok, sweetheart?" Lydia forced her breathing to remain steady and managed to force out a smile and a nod.

"Mm hm. Yep. I'm good. Just..." she cast a glance down at her casual, crumpled attire and the rumpled bed sheets. "...taking a nap. I was taking a nap." She faked a yawn, spectacuarly unconvincingly. She could almost hear Stiles roll his eyes from her closet. Her mother, however, seemed placated, her worried brow smoothing into a broad smile.

"You eaten? Are you hungry?" She said, stepping further into the room, perching herself on the edge of Lydia's bed.

"Maybe your gentleman friend could stay for dinner?" She ventured, a knowing smile playing on her lips. For a second, Lydia's eyes flitted to the closet, convinced her mother meant Stiles, before remembered the man she had mentioned before.

"Oh. Oh... yeah. You said there was someone here to see me?" She tried to keep her tone light and breezy, failing miserably when her voice came out tight and shrill. Her mother didn't seem to notice. "Anyone I know?"

Her mother smiled the same wicked smile that Lydia would use occasionally and Lydia suddenly realised where she'd got it from. Her mother leaned in, speaking conspiratorially in a mock stage whisper.

"Well, he's tall, _very_ cute, and he's wearing the hell out of a leather jacket." She winked at Lydia, who paled and tried her very best to look pleased. There was no mistaking that. Derek had shown up at the very worst possible time, and Lydia fought to remain calm as her mind whirled. She still hadn't got the full details of what had actually happened between Derek and Stiles, and she suddenly wondered if they were in any danger. Stiles had mentioned that Derek had lost control and her mind flitted to all the very worst possibilities, landing on perhaps Derek being poisoned somehow? If he was lacking control and he walked into her room, reeking of sweat and sex and the faint linger of Stiles' blood, who knows what could happen? She smiled at her mother, her face tight, a light sheen a sweat breaking out across her brow. Her mother noticed nothing, just springing lightly from the bed and stalking across the room to stop just outside her doorway. She hung off Lydia's doorframe, leaning just outside of the room flirtily to talk to the hallway.

"Sweetie? You can head on in." Lydia took a deep breath as the steps on the last couple of stairs rang deafeningly in her ears, trying to force a smile as her mother briefly leaned back into the room to mouth "_SO cute!"_ before moving out of sight, back down the stairs.

Lydia nearly died of relief when Isaac Lahey turned the corner into her room, slamming the door shut behind him. She breathed out a short, grateful laugh, putting her hand to her chest dramatically.

"Isaac! I thought you were-"

"What did you do?" He said quietly, glaring at her from across the room, stopping her words in their tracks.

"What? I don't-" He stepped further into the room, his eyes menacingly flashing amber at her. He inhaled, raising his nose in the air slightly, turning his head to stare at the closet. The door swung open slowly, creaking too loudly in the oppresive silence of the room, revealing Stiles, who was still clothed only in a pair of blue boxers. He had already been sniffed out and had decided there was no point trying to conceal his presence any longer.

The silence dragged on and Lydia squirmed uncomfortably as Isaac's glare shifted from one to the other.

"What the fuck did you two do to Derek?!"

* * *

**Ohhh Isaac all mad an' whatnot! They in trouble now! I had to write a bit of Isaac into this fic, cause I'm cultivating a borderline dangerous obsession with him this season. Like, can he just get some action already? All panic attacks and no action makes Isaac a sad boy! :(**

**Anyhoo, how're we liking this little turn of events? I'm sorry I tried to make you think Stiles was dying. I hope I managed to fool some of you, but you're all so damn smart. You always see my twists coming a mile away so I'm guessing some of your realised it was all just a horrible dream. Either way, keep those reviews coming in! And yes - there'll will be some Derek coming up soon! I know I've been neglecting him. (Just like Jeff Davis!)**

**xxx**


	26. Please Help Him

_"What the fuck did you two do to Derek?!"_

A tense silence filled the room as the three of them exchanged fraught looks. Isaac raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"I... I don't know what you mean," Lydia spluttered out.

"The hell you don't. Something's wrong and I know it's gotta have something to do with you two." Isaac's voice was quieter now, his eyes remaining their usual blue colour. He seemed to have his anger in check, but his voice still dripped with accusation.

Lydia bristled at being accused of something she had nothing to do with and she tried to pull herself together, no longer rattled by Isaac's earlier angry outburst. She uncoiled her long legs from under her and climbed off her bed gracefully, slowly crossing the room to stand in front of Isaac. She fixed him with a hard stare, crossing her arms and leaning in close, invading his personal space.

"If you recall correctly, the last time there was something wrong with Derek, it was you who was to blame, not us." She spoke quietly, deliberately, not letting herself feel bad for bringing up her and Isaac's weird moment a couple of days ago. Isaac looked flustered as she turned the tables on him and opened his mouth to speak, before she cut him off. "So I'd think twice before you burst into my room, throwing accusations round."

Isaac blushed a deep shade of scarlet, avoiding Lydia's piercing gaze, directing his eyes to the floor. Lydia felt a momentary pang of sadness for making him feel bad. She liked Isaac and she knew he had been through a lot, but she also didn't take kindly to people bursting into her room and accusing her of things she had nothing to do with.

No-one said anything for a long, tense moment and Lydia realised that Derek wasn't the only werewolf with communication issues.

"So..." She started, trying to keep her tone light, "what's wrong with Derek?"

Her question seemed to deflate all the air out of Isaac, as he visibly wilted in front of them, his head dropping and his shoulders sagging. When he spoke, he sounded drained.

"I... I don't know. I came home and something was different. He told me to leave and never come back." Isaac fought to keep his voice steady. "He didn't say why, just kept mumbling to himself that he was dangerous and that it was for my own good."

He paused, though Lydia knew there was more, something he was struggling to say. She reached out and tentatively touched Isaac's arm, ignoring the way he flinched slightly.

"I wouldn't go so..." Isaac took a deep breath, dropping his gaze to the floor. "He.. he threw a glass."

The impact of his words seemed lost on Stiles and Lydia who both tried their best to look understanding. He looked up at them, his wide eyes flitting between them, realising he needed to clarify.

"I told him things. Things about my father. He... he used to throw things at me. Glasses and... things. Derek knew and he still..." His voice trailed off as he no longer trusted it to remain steady. Lydia's hand moved to his shoulder and gave it a little reassuring squeeze. Their eyes met and he nodded slightly at her, grateful for the gesture.

"So... what happened? Did something happen between you and Derek?" Isaac ventured, much less accusingly than before.

Lydia's gaze dropped, awkwardly and flitted to Stiles, who was still standing in the entrance to her wardrobe, clutching his clothes against him in a messy pile. He stepped forward slightly, into the room and dropped the handful of clothes to reveal his bare chest, the white bandage still in place. Isaac's mouth dropped open at the sight of the white square and he took a couple of steps towards Stiles before stopping and wrinkling his nose up, as if disgusted.

"Um... I'm sorry, but..." His eyes flicked to Lydia and he blushed, casting his eyes down at the floor and shifting awkwardly on the spot. "it REEKS of sex in here."

Lydia and Stiles both unconsciously took a small step backwards away from Isaac, both their cheeks reddening under Isaac's apologetic gaze.  
"Oh god.." Lydia muttered, feeling absolutely mortified.

Isaac held his hands up, looking guilty.

"I'm sorry! I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I just... I can't really concentrate with... " He gestured vaguely towards the air, clearly wafting around some obscene scent that Stiles and Lydia's human noses couldn't pick up on.

Lydia knew she was now pretty much the same colour as her hair and rushed to throw open the window, using it as an excuse to turn away from them both, relishing in the cool evening air on her face. She turned back into the room, where Isaac was awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck and Stiles was still standing in the middle of the room in his boxers, looking around dumbstuck.

Striding purposefully back into the centre of the room, she flashed Isaac an apologetic smile before grabbing Stiles' hand roughly and dragging him towards her bathroom.

"We'll be right back."

"Aargh! Ow!" Stiles complained as she retained her iron grip on his hand, pulling him into the bathroom with her and shutting the door behind her.  
He rubbed his hand dramatically.

"Jeez! I think you broke my hand, Lyd."

She rolled her eyes and leaned back against the door, covering her still-burning face with her hands.

"Well, this has gone from awkward to mortifying." She announced simply.

"Relax! So Isaac knows we had sex. Big deal! We all know he's banging Erica anyway. No-one makes a big deal out of that."

A muffled voice piped up on the other side of the door.

"For the record, I can hear you from out here."

Lydia groaned and rushed over to the shower, flicking it on and busying herself with turning all the dials to the right pressure and temperature. Satisfied it was perfect, she turned to Stiles, quirking a single eyebrow and flicking her head towards the shower.

"Get in," she demanded, simply.

Stiles would have objected to being ordered around, but he could tell that Lydia was in no mood to be trifled with, so he turned away from her, divested himself of his boxers and stepped under the spray of warm water. He relished in the feel of it, washing away all the sweat and weirdness that the past day had brought, suddenly tensing when he felt Lydia step into the shower behind him.

"What are you-?" He started, turning around to face her, trying to keep his eyes trained on her face.

She ignored him, reaching for a bottle of overpriced shampoo, lathering it into her hair and closing her eyes as she massaged it into her scalp. Her current movements pushed her breasts up and out in front of her, and Stiles could no longer keep his eyes on her face, letting his eyes drift down to take in her naked body, fascinated by the way the water droplets ran down her skin. He shook himself mentally, unfreezing from the shock of feeling her step into the shower with him.

"Ready for round 2?" He murmured, leaning in close to her. Her eyes flew open as she rinsed the suds out of her hair, and she flashed him a sceptical look.

"Are you kidding me?" She rolled her eyes at him, pushing the soap into his hands.

"I just thought... you're naked, and I'm naked..." He mused, thoughtfully, half-heartedly rubbing the soap over himself.

"Not gonna happen." She clarified, turning her back to him to get her hair in the spray more.

Stiles looked thoughtfully at the soap in his hands, rolling it over and over to work up a handful of lather.

"Oh... sure... right. Not gonna happen." He repeated, his tone sounding vaguely disbelieving. He perched the soap on the ledge and reached out with both hands, rubbing the lather into her shoulders, his thumbs applying just the right amount of pressure, loving the way her body relaxed into his touch. He rubbed down her back, then worked his way back up, moving his hands in small circular motions down the length of her arms and then back up. His hands paused in the middle of her smooth back, before sliding under her arms to the front, his hands resting on her rib cage, just under her breasts.

"Stiles..." Her voice came out like a soft warning. "We don't have time for-"

Her words trailed off as he yanked her back roughly, pulling her body against his, earning a breathy squeak. His mouth found her earlobe, and he just pressed his lips against it, letting her feel his breath against the sensitive skin there, as his hands drifted to her breasts, lightly squeezing. Her head dropped back against his shoulder and a soft moan escaped her lips before the voice they had both forgotten about piped up again.

"Again, I would like to let you both know I can totally hear you right now... And there's only so much loud humming I can do."

A few minutes later, the two of them emerged from the bathroom, looking slightly shame-faced and avoiding Isaac's piercing gaze.

"Good shower?" He asked pointedly, smiling innocently at them both.

Stiles instantly avoided his gaze, dropping to the ground to grab his clothes that were still in a pile on the floor, while Lydia smiled sweetly at him, pretending not to feel the blush that heated her cheeks.

"Perfect. Thanks." She spoke tersely, as she strode to her closet, grabbing some clothes and heading back into the bathroom.

The moment the door was shut, Isaac's icy, steely resolve broke down and he breathed out a soft, disbelieving laugh.

"Dude?!" He breathed out, meeting eyes with a sheepish Stiles, who finished pulling his clothes on and shrugged at him, as if he couldn't believe it either.

Isaac held up his hand, his face wearing an impressed smile, and, unable to resist, Stiles crossed the room and high fived him, the crack of their hands echoing loudly in the room.

"If that was the sound of you two high-fiving, I will kill you both." A voice piped up from behind the bathroom door, sounding deadly serious.

"Er... no, that was cause our team... the lacrosse team..." Isaac, started, stumbling over his words.

"They won. They won a game today." Stiles finished, nodding at Isaac, as if his lie was golden. Lydia emerged from the bathroom, shaking her still damp hair out from the deep blue t-shirt she had just pulled on.

"Right." She said, disbelievingly, narrowing her eyes at them both. "And how did they win, exactly? It's a saturday. In the summer break. And their two star players are in my bedroom right now."

Isaac went back to awkwardly rubbing his neck. He found it hard to believe he had walked into Lydia's room so confident and sure of himself, and now he was back to feeling like that skinny, awkward freshman who had embarrassed himself asking her out. He glanced back up at Lydia who was standing with her hip jutting out, her foot tapping impatiently. If she could still be so confident, after all she'd been through, he was sure he could be aswell.

"Whatever." He quickly dismissed their high-fiving moment, Stiles visibly relaxing now he was off the hook. "Look, are you coming to see Derek or not?"

Lydia flicked her head round to Stiles, sharing an unspoken moment of communication with him. He nodded his head slightly and she turned her attention back to Isaac, who tried not to look shocked that Lydia Martin was looking to Stiles for confirmation on anything.

"Well, erm" he started. "Let's go then."

Instead of moving, Lydia sat herself down at her dressing table, oblivious to the confused looks from Stiles and Isaac.

"Erm... Lyd? I think he wanted you to come aswell." Stiles added, helpfully.

She rolled her eyes at him in the mirror.

"Yeah. I got that, Stiles. But, if Derek's losing his mind over us, I think I owe it to him to look my best." She said slowly, as if he was being stupid, while grabbing various tubes of expensive cosmetics from boxes on her desk.

Five minutes later, and after a few disgruntled sighs from Isaac, Lydia was ready, her make-up simple and basic, her still-damp hair pinned up into a messy bun. She stood suddenly, sweeping her makeup back into the box and turning to fix Isaac with an annoyed look.

"Honestly, Isaac. How do you have so little patience? You're with Erica, right? Surely the hooker war paint look takes longer than five minutes to perfect?" She said, innocently, flinching slightly when Isaac instinctively took a menacing step towards her.

"Now, now Lydia. That wasn't nice." Stiles interjected, stepping between them, with his hands held up. He turned to Isaac, with a slight smirk playing on his lips. "I'd say it's more ingénue porn star than hooker."

He let out a breath of relief when Isaac smiled, taking a step back and dropping his fierce gaze.

After a beat, they all started towards the door, before Isaac held his hand up, stopping them both.

"Wait. Stiles was in the closet." He said, thoughtfully.

"Yeah. Ok, ok. I think the 'in the closet' jokes can wait. Yes, I like guys too. No need to make a thing of it. It's the twenty first centu-"

"No. Sssh." Lydia stopped him before he launched into a full-on pride rant.

"He's pointing out that you were hiding. My mother doesn't know you're here. You can't just stroll out with us."

"So... how am I gonna get out?" He mused, before noticing where Lydia and Isaac were both looking. He directed his gaze to where theirs were, before shaking his head.

"Oh no... You have got to be kidding me!" Shaking his head at the open window, illuminated in the soft, late evening light.

Lydia shrugged apologetically as Stiles sighed, resigning himself to an uncomfortable climb.

"We'll meet you by the car," she whispered out into the gloom as Stiles began descending down the trellice, grumbling to himself.

* * *

"Oh, Lydia honey? Can you come here a sec?"

Lydia skipped across the kitchen into the living room where her mother was sitting with the papers.

"Yeah?"

The papers dropped and were folded back into place, telling Lydia that she was in for a serious talking to.

"I want to talk to you about your friend."

"Mom, can this wait? I was just on my way out-" Lydia started, glancing desperately back over her shoulder.

"Yes honey. I can see that. That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

Her mom took a deep breath, smoothing out the paper in her hands nervously, unsure how exactly to word what she wanted to say.

"Look, I know you're young and it can seem exciting to play the field, but... I just don't want you to get a reputation that you don't deserve."

"Mom, I-" Lydia shifted uncomfortably on the spot.

"I know, I know. You're not that kind of girl. But you have to think about the way others see it. I know you're with Derek, and he seems wonderful, but then there's that Stillinski boy? I've seen the way he looks at you. You can't pretend you haven't noticed."

Lydia paled, shifting her weight from foot to foot, taking another breath to try and interrupt.

"And now there's this boy who turned up today. All cheekbones and puppy dog eyes. I know whatever you're doing might seem fun now, but I just don't want to see you get hurt. These boys... I know they seem like they care about you but, you can't always trust them. The one that turned up today? I mean, the leather jacket and the smouldering gaze? I had more than my fair share of those when I was your age-"

"Mom!" Lydia cut her off abruptly, searching for something to say to shut her up. "Isaac's gay, ok? The guy who turned up today? Gay. And Stiles? He's my friend. I don't know how you think he looks at me but you're wrong, ok? There's no "playing the field' and the only reputation I have is 'that girl who ends up in hospital a lot'."

Her mother held up her hands, shocked by her daughter's rant.

"Gay? Are you sure?" She queried, not looking convinced.

"As the day is long." Lydia confirmed, though her mother didn't look too sure. Suddenly an arm slunk round her shoulders, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Hey girl. What's the hold up? I don't wanna keep Scott waiting." Isaac purred, flashing her mother a bright smile.

Lydia tensed slightly at the feel of his hands on her, but smiled brightly back at her mother.

"No hold up, right mom?" Mrs Martin shook her head, glancing around the room, rearranging her worried expression into a tight smile.

"No, no. You kids have fun."

* * *

"I'm gay?" He hissed in her ear, as soon as they were out of the house, his arm dropping from her shoulder.

"Well either you were gay, or I was a slut with three men on the go."

"Who's a slut with three men on the go?" Stiles piped up, jumping out of the bushes next to her house, making them both jump.

"Lydia," Isaac said simply, ignoring the way she narrowed her eyes at him and stalked ahead, her heels clicking angrily along the path to her car. Stiles shook his head solemnly at Isaac, who merely shrugged and hurried along to catch up to Lydia.

The car ride to Derek's apartment was mostly silent, nobody really knowing what to say. Isaac had to crack the window open to avoid the acrid scent of worry mixed with fear that was coming off Stiles and Lydia in waves. Stiles spent most of the journey chewing his bottom lip, his mind racing about how he was going to feel when he saw Derek again, while Lydia's face was a picture of calm, apparently completely focused on the road, and untroubled by any worries about Derek. Only her white knuckles, gripping the steering wheel much too hard were an indicator of her true feelings, her stomach tied in knots, not knowing what they were about to walk into.

* * *

"Hello? Derek?" Isaac ventured quietly, his voice echoing into the dark of the apartment. Stiles and Lydia were cowed behind him, peeking out from behind his huge frame that took up most of the doorway.

"Derek?" He said again, much too quietly.

"Oh for god's sake..." Lydia muttered, rolling her eyes and realising that hiding behind Isaac was ridiculous. He was more scared of anything they might find in this apartment than she was. She pushed past him, ignoring the hands that tried to stop her and strode into the darkness of the living room, stopping with her hands on her hips.

"Derek?" She trilled out, her voice echoing loudly into the gloom.

"I don't think he's here-" She was cut off by a small groan from the end of the hall. All three of them whipped their heads to stare towards where the sound came from. Isaac inhaled deeply and nodded slightly at Lydia.

"It's him," he confirmed.

Another quiet groan came from the end of the hall, and, before Isaac or Stiles could stop her, Lydia was dashing towards the noise, skidding to a halt and wrenching the door open.

Isaac and Stiles ran to catch up to her, but as soon as the door was flung open, Isaac halted, sniffing the air once and doubling over, holding his stomach. Instinctively, they both rushed over to him, stopping when his head snapped up, his eyes glowing amber.

"No! Get Derek!" He choked out, his words coming out like a harsh roar, still doubled over in pain. Stiles and Lydia froze, glancing from Isaac to each other, their eyes wide.

"What's wrong?" Lydia's voice rang out, shrill and panicked, as Isaac took a shaky step backwards. "Isaac?"

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry. I cant-" He stuttered out, stumbling backwards towards the door. "I have to go. Please. Help him." He jerked his head towards the open door to Derek's room, which was cloaked in darkness, before shuffling through the living room, falling through the front door. The door slammed behind him and Lydia and Stiles just stared at each other for a second, their eyes wide and fearful, the sudden silence oppressive. Another groan turned their attention back towards the pitch black of Derek's bedroom, their heads snapping round to stare into the darkness before their eyes met again.

They both took a deep breath and took a step into the room, their eyes taking a moment to adjust to the gloom. Lydia sniffed lightly, picking up on the sweet scent that filled the air. It was familiar somehow, but she wasn't sure where she knew it from. It was only when her eyes had adjusted and the room came into focus that her brain put two and two together and she cursed herself for taking so long to figure it out.

She rushed over to the window, ripping open the curtains, the room flooding with the soft glow of the moonlight. Derek's still form was illuminated where he lay on the bed, wearing only a pair of jeans, his torso glistening with a light sheen of sweat. Within a second, Lydia had located what she was looking for, and she ran to the bed, grabbing the roughly gathered handful of purple flowers from where they lay next to him. Stiles stood frozen on the spot as Lydia sprang into action, rushing to the window, throwing it open and tossing the flowers out, then crossing to open the other window as wide as she could. As soon as she was done, it was like all the adrenaline rushed out of her body and she visibly deflated, her eyes meeting Stiles' as he stared at her in awe.

A pained sigh from the bed drew their attention back to where Derek lay, his body shaking a little with each breath. This time it was Stiles who moved, no longer frozen in shock, crossing the room to perch next to Derek, lifting his hand to peer at the palm.

"Lydia. Look." He held Derek's hand up for her to examine, noticing the light covering of lilac pollen that covered it, trying desperately to brush it off. "It's all over him!" He said, panicking as he tried in vain to brush the sticky dust off Derek.

"The shower. Help me get him to the shower."

Later on, neither of them would remember how they managed to manoeuvre Derek off the bed and into the bathroom, but somehow they managed it, dragging him between them and clumsily depositing him into the shower. Lydia climbed in after him, clambering over his still unconscious form, while Stiles stepped in on the other side of him. Lydia took Derek's face in her hands, slapping him lightly, while Stiles fiddled with the dials, his hands fumbling to turn on the shower.

"Derek? Derek, honey?" She murmured softly, still crouching over him, trying to get him to wake up. "Dere-" Her words were cut off as Stiles finally worked out the dials and all three of them were suddenly doused with a jet of ice cold water. Lydia screamed as the frigid water soaked all three of them, Derek's eyes suddenly flying open at the sound of her squeal. The three of them stared at each other, their ragged panting and the noise of the water splashing off the tiles the only sounds in the room. They were soaked through, the water cascading off Derek's chiselled abs, Stiles and Lydia's clothes sticking to them. Stiles glanced from Derek's to Lydia's chests and decided to be the first to break the silence.

"So... would this be a bad time to propose a shower threesome?"

* * *

**Kinda filler again. I apologise, but I needed to move the story on a bit. (And there was a bit of shower groping... so there's something for you!). I thiiiink I can see an end in sight now... maybe? I keep saying that and then the story just keeps getting away from me! **

**Also, I'm happy you all liked the inclusion of Isaac in the last chapter. I'm nursing a serious love for him this season! Also, I have no words for how much I loved the last episode! I saw comments saying it was boring, but like... whaaat?! It had everything! Tortured Derek, Isaac giving out a hug (well jell!), Stiles and Lydia kissing, some info on Stiles' mom... I hearted it! What did we all think?**

**As always thank you soooooo much for your reviews and to everyone who's added this story to alerts and things. I heart you all! **

**xxx**


	27. Cold Shower

_"So... would this be a bad time to propose a shower threesome?"_

Derek snorted lazily, before his eyes fluttered shut again and his head lolled back, banging off the tiles behind him.

Lydia brushed the strands of wet hair out of her eyes, leaning over Derek, worry etched on her face.

"Derek? Derek, sweetie? You have to stay with us." His eyes flickered open again, and he groaned, her hazel eyes boring into his desperately. Derek's head rolled to the side again, as he fought to keep his eyes open.

"What's wrong with him?" Stiles whispered fearfully, wrapping his arms around himself as he stared down at them, horror written all over his face.

"Wolfsbane," she whispered. "The spores were all over him."

Her hands swept over his torso, pointing out the angry red blotches that marred his otherwise perfect skin. He moaned softly as her hands ghosted over his flesh, splashing water gently onto the angry red marks.

"Wolfsbane? Where did it come from?"

"I don't know," she murmured helpfully, not turning to look at him.

"Well how did it get on him? Is he gonna be ok?" Stiles' words tumbled out too fast, cut off when Lydia suddenly whirled her head round, her eyes glinting angrily at him.

"I don't know! Ok, Stiles? I don't know!" She snapped, her lip wobbling before she turned her attention back to Derek.

Her hands trembled as she rubbed gently at his skin, all three of them starting to shiver under the jet of icy cold water.

"L-Lydia?" Stiles stuttered out, his words coming out more quietly now, sounding unsure of himself. "What do we do?"

She didn't answer, just carried on brushing at Derek's chest, her hand shaking violently until Stiles' hand suddenly shot out and grabbed hers, stilling her movements. Her eyes whipped up to gaze up at him, her eyes darting around uneasily. Stiles swiftly realised that, for once, Lydia didn't have a plan. Her eyes were wide and fearful, and he could see that, although she would never admit it, she wanted him to take control, to figure out what they should do with the shivering, semi-conscious man between them.

"Lydia?" He repeated, softly, trying his best to sound less panicked. "We need to get out of this shower, before we freeze to death, ok?" She nodded mutely, watching as he turned the shower off, somehow even colder now that the water wasn't hitting them. Her teeth chattered as Stiles' shaking hands gestured for her to help him get Derek up.

"Derek!" He yelled suddenly, making Lydia jump. Derek stirred slightly, his hazy eyes opening for a second before drooping shut again. Stiles hesitated for a split second before reaching out and slapping Derek as hard as he could across the face. Derek's eyes immediately flew open, and a small growl rumbled deep in his chest.

"We need to get you up, ok? You have to help us." Derek indicated he understood with a slight nod, and with Derek doing his best to hold himself up, they managed to half walk him, half drag him back to the bedroom, Lydia rushing to strip all the pollen-covered sheets off the bed before they dumped him unceremoniously onto the bare mattress. Lydia dashed to the window, throwing the tainted sheets out to flutter to the ground below, not caring what Derek's neighbours might think.

All three of them were shaking, their wet, freezing clothes sticking to them, the cold night air still streaming in through the open window that Lydia was too scared to close. Though her human nose couldn't detect the sweet smell that had filled the air earlier, she couldn't be sure that the spores didn't remain.

Stiles and Lydia stood helplessly for a second, both wrapping their arms around themselves, staring at Derek, who lay shivering on the bed.

"Should we... Should we take his jeans off?" Lydia ventured, nodding her head to the soaking wet denim, her voice quivering as her whole body convulsed with the cold.

"Dear penthouse forum..." Stiles muttered under his breath, his words lost as the sound of chattering teeth echoed loudly in the room.

She ignored him, and started to work Derek's jeans down his legs, while Stiles ran to get towels from the bathroom. He came back to find Lydia pressing a hand against Derek's cheek, looking worried.

"He's cold. Like, really cold." She chattered out, her voice laced with concern.

"Yeah well, so are you," he mumbled, sitting down next to her and wrapping a big fluffy towel around her shoulders, pulling her close to him and rubbing up and down her arms and her back. She relaxed into him, damp tendrils of hair tickling his chin as she let him envelope her in his arms, already feeling some of the numbness leaving her fingertips. Pulling back slightly, she took another towel from the pile Stiles had brought and flung it over Derek, before taking another one and wrapping it around Stiles' shoulders, mimicking his actions. They made eye contact as she rubbed at his arms, and she flashed him a small half smile, the smile she seemed to save only for him, before turning away and heading towards Derek's chest of drawers. Wordlessly, she pulled out a grey, long-sleeved henley and a pair of thick navy sweatpants, turning to toss the sweatpants at Stiles. He stared at her quizzically for a moment before she threw him a "duh!" look.

"You wanna freeze to death?" She quirked an eyebrow at Stiles' soaking wet clothes and, without another word, turned away from him, pulling her T shirt over her head and slipping her jeans down off her legs. He couldn't help but stare at her ass for a second, before shaking himself out of it and starting to pull his own wet clothes off.

Seconds later, she turned back round to find him staring at her with undisguised passion. He shouldn't find the huge, shapeless shirt so sexy, but he couldn't help but notice the way it skimmed the tops of her legs, and the way the neckline dipped way too low on her small frame, the open buttons revealing the swell of her cleavage. She shifted her weight from foot to foot and breathed out a soft laugh, flashing him another one of the smiles she saved for him.

"Down boy," she whispered, her eyes darting down to where the bandage had been, sighing a breath of relief to see that the water had loosened the bandage to reveal thin, dark pink scratches, which looked infinitely better than they had the day before. He followed her gaze to his chest and smirked back at her.

"Down girl. There'll be time to ogle my hot bod later."

She rolled her eyes, stifling a soft laugh when a sudden croak from the bed drew both their attention back to Derek. He rolled clumsily onto his side, his arm flopping heavily onto the bed as he accidentally kicked the towel off him.

"Cold," he whispered, sleepily.

Instinctively, without discussion or hesitation, Lydia and Stiles both dashed over, Lydia sliding in front of Derek, while Stiles slipped in behind him, both of them curling their bodies against him to try and keep him warm. Derek barely stirred as they wrapped their arms around him, gently rubbing at his goose-pimpled flesh. Their eyes met as they stared at each other over the side of Derek's throat, their hands reaching across Derek's waist to scramble for each other, their fingers intertwining.

"Lydia?"

"Yeah?" They kept their eyes on each other, lying on their sides, facing each other as though there wasn't a wall of chiselled, muscly werewolf between them.

"This should feel weirder than it does, right?"

"Yep," she confirmed, casually, her hand giving Stiles' a reassuring little squeeze.

"Is he gonna be ok?"

Derek stirred slightly at his words, nuzzling slightly into Lydia's hair.

"Need to sleep." He muttered, so quietly that they doubted they would have heard it if they weren't pressed against him. "I'll heal while I sleep. Gonna be fine..." His slow, slurred words trailed off as his breathing slowed to a deep sigh, nuzzling deeper into Lydia's hair again.

Lydia and Stiles were still as they watched Derek's pained look smooth out into a peaceful expression as he drifted off into sleep. They were silent for a second, before breathing out a sigh of relief.

"Lyd?" Stiles whispered across Derek's sleeping form.

"What?" She breathed.

"Wanna play twenty questions?"

She breathed out a soft laugh.

"You are the strangest person I've ever-" She cut herself off, freezing as Derek stirred lightly in his sleep, wrapping his arm around her waist. He pulled her even closer to him, snuggling against the crook of Lydia's neck and inhaling deeply.

"Mmm," he purred, the sound vibrating through her body as his lips brushed gently against her ear lobe. "Paige..."

* * *

**Tiny little chapter but I'm thinking the next chapter is going to be The Big Conversation, so I just wanted to set the scene for that whole thing. And yes... Paige... I freakin went there! I'm not really acknowledging any of other the events of season 3 cause they don't really fit in with this story, but I really wanted to mention that gorgeous flashback episode and I worked out a casual way to bring it in. Yay! **

**Anyhoo, as always, thank you so much for all your reviews! I just got a shit ton of follows all of a sudden aswell. Oh hey, new people! Welcome to the angst-fest! Lemme know how you're feeling about this chapter. I know it doesn't really answer any questions, but don't worry - All will be revealed in the next chapter. xxx**


	28. Paige

**OMG! I seriously love the response I got to the last chapter! So many of the reviews I got just consisted of the words "OMG! Paige! Oh no you didn't!" and I felt like some sort of evil genius for deciding to mention her in this fic. I actually kinda got carried away with references to past episodes in this chapter. I caught a couple of older episodes on TV this week, and was like "Ooh! That could kind of be relevant to my story" and I couldn't help but bring a few old quotes back. I hope you enjoy and that the "big conversation" doesn't disappoint.**

* * *

"Are you... Einstein?" Stiles' voice was hazy and distorted as it cut through the fog that was slowly clearing from Derek's brain.

Derek identified the clear sound of Lydia sighing impatiently, clicking her tongue in annoyance.

"For the last time, no!"

Derek felt a shifting behind him, but kept his eyes shut, his mind struggling to make sense of the situation. Lydia and Stiles' unique scents were filling his nostrils and he was pretty sure they were all in his bed, but he couldn't remember anything about how they had got there. He frowned to himself, keeping his eyes tightly shut, buying himself a couple of moments to try and make sense of his surroundings. His head was foggy and though he could feel their little hearts pounding so close to him, their voices sounded far away, their words still distant and distorted.

"I give in." Stiles sighed deeply.

Lydia tutted.

"I was John Locke."

"From Lost?"

There was silence for a moment, before Lydia spoke again, her voice dripping with condensation.

"No, sweetie. The philosopher."

"Ohhhhh..." Stiles whispered, not sounding like he had any clue who Lydia was talking about.

"Ya know, there's a whole big wide world out there beyond your TV screen..."

"Hey! Don't knock Lost! Groundbreaking television right there."

"Mmm, I'm sure..." Their voices were clearer now, the haze that had clouded Derek's senses seemingly gone. He felt more aware of his surroundings now, becoming aware of the heat of the bodies on either side of him. He could feel small hands clasped against his side, suddenly feeling very trapped between the two teens who were now arguing about what the best show on television was. Keeping his face pressed into the pillow, he concentrated on keeping his breathing steady and even, trying not to focus on the fact that his hand was resting on the small of Lydia's back. They both shifted against him, oblivious to the fact that he was awake, Lydia's hair brushing against his face, filling his senses with the delicate aroma of hibiscus and honey. Before he could stop himself, he unconsciously flexed his fingers, his hand twitching against her, tightening his grasp on her back.

She froze, clumsily rolling over to look at him.

"Derek?" She whispered, leaning in close, crowding him. Derek knew there was no point carrying on pretending to be asleep, so he let his eyes flicker open, turning his face to see Lydia staring at him with concern. She was so close to him, he could feel her breath against his face, her chest pressing against his with every breath.

Suddenly Stiles was looming over him, pressing his chest against Derek's back, leaning in close to his face.

"How are you feelin'?" He chirped, Derek whipping his head to stare up at him, before instinctively squirming out from under them both, scrambling to sit up against the headboard. His gaze flitted down to what they were both wearing, frowning at the expanse of creamy pale flesh that was exposed by their current attire. They stared back at him, their little faces creasing with concern as his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom.

"You're wearing my clothes." He choked out, pointlessly, his words catching in his dry throat.

Both Stiles and Lydia glanced down at themselves, frowning in confusion.

"Er... yeah." Lydia said, uncertainly, her eyes meeting Stiles' for a moment before darting back to Derek.

An uncomfortable silence descended over the room, before Stiles huffed out a little breath, drawing their attention to him. His hands went to the waistband of the big grey sweatpants he was wearing, pulling the drawstring undone.

"We can take them off if you want-" His movements halted as Derek barked out a harsh "No!".

"Derek?" Lydia drew his attention back to her, speaking softly, holding her hands up as if approaching a small child or a cornered animal. "How do you feel?"

His hands ghosted over the faint pink blotches that covered his torso. They were itchy and a little sore, and his head still throbbed slightly, but apart from that, he was fine.

"I'm fine," he muttured, shifting slightly on the bed, shuffling away from the enticing bare skin of Lydia's legs.

"What the hell happened?" Stiles cut in, ignoring Lydia's sensitive, gentle approach. Derek stared off into the corner of the room, without answering.

"Lydia said you were covered in wolfsbane?"

The silence dragged on before Derek took a deep, cleansing breath.

"I..." He paused, staring at his feet, avoiding their intense gazes. "I was angry at myself."

"Riiight..." Stiles urged him on, while Derek paused, trying to find the words.

"There's a patch of wolfsbane growing in the woods, near the creek. And... I was just so angry at myself for... what happened." He let his head drop back against the headboard, closing his eyes, blocking out the shocked gasp that suddenly came from Lydia. Her hand flew to cover her mouth, her eyes wide with shock, as she came to a sudden realisation. Stiles, however, was a few moments behind her.

"You did this to yourself?" She whispered, Stiles' eyes widening at her words.

Derek remained still, his face turned up to the ceiling, his eyes staying closed.

"Are you kidding me?" Stiles blurted out angrily. "You were trying to kill yourself?!"

Derek's eyes flew open and he stared at Stiles.

"No! No... I just... I just hated myself for what happened and I just wanted to..." Again, he struggled to find the words to express himself. "I hurt you, so I deserved to hurt."

Lydia had remained silent during his and Stiles' little moment, but she piped up now, mumbling something neither of them quite heard.

"You're a fucking idiot!" She repeated, through gritted teeth, her eyes flashing dangerously at him. Derek and Stiles just stared at her. It wasn't like Lydia to be dropping F-bombs, but Stiles could see her hands shaking, her shoulders tight with anger.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Her voice was quiet, menacing somehow, despite her tiny size, as she glared at him. He dropped his gaze, looking like a scolded child, but it wasn't enough for Lydia. Without warning, she reached out and slapped him as hard as she could across the face. Stiles' mouth fell open in shock, but before he could react she was lunging past him to cross the small gap between her and Derek, sitting across his legs, her hands inneffectually clawing and hitting at him, barely making any contact as rage overtook her.

"You could have died! Why would you be so stupid?! Do we mean that little to you? Did you even think about us?!" She screeched out, her hands flailing wildly, while Derek made no attempt to stop her or protect himself. After a few seconds of sitting frozen in shock, Stiles lunged forwards, wrapping strong arms around Lydia, pulling her back into his lap. She continued struggling for a second before calming down when she realised that she had no hope of shaking off the firm grip Stiles' hand had settled around her wrists. She leaned back against Stiles' chest, panting slightly, puffing her tangled curls out of her eyes to glare at Derek.

"Death doesn't happen to you, Derek. It happens to the people you leave behind."

Stiles gazed down at the top of her head in shock, surprised she would remember his words from so long ago. That was the first time he'd opened up to her, and when she'd left, he was worried he'd scared her off. They'd never talked about it again, but now Stiles saw that his words had had some kind of impact on her. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, a silent thank you for understanding what those words meant. They were all silent for a moment, the gravity and meaning of Lydia's words weighing heavily on all of them. Derek was breathing hard, not breaking eye contact with Lydia, his expression unreadable.

"I... I didn't think." He eventually said quietly.

"No. That's the problem. You never do. You make decisions for us like we're stupid kids, and you act like you're making all these tough, noble choices, but you never seem to think about how we're gonna feel." Her voice was no longer dripping with venom, though her words still carried a hard edge.

Derek's nostrils flared, and he gritted his teeth, before his face softened.

"You're right."

"This is Lydia... Of course she's right." Stiles lightened the moment a little. "She's always right. You better get used it."

Derek cracked a small, tight smile, which Lydia returned with the half-smile that Stiles had always thought she saved for him. It made his heart hurt a bit to catch her sharing it with someone else, but he knew the power in that smile. He knew Derek needed it right now. Another silence descended upon the trio, and Lydia awkwardly shuffled out of Stiles' lap, shrugging his arms off her and moving to the other side of the bed. She sat cross-legged absentmindedly pulling her legs up under her, before realising belatedly that she was still only wearing Derek's shirt. She saw both of them glance down to the scrap of pink lace before averting their gaze, Stiles clearing his throat while Derek shifted uncomfortably. She immediately moved, pulling the soft grey material down to cover her as she swung her legs to the side, tucking her feet underneath her.

"So," Derek started, omninously. "Why aren't we wearing any clothes?" he finished casually.

"Oh, we had our way with you in the shower. You don't remember?" Lydia remarked, equally casually.

"You rocked our worlds, stud!" Stiles added, winking at Derek salaciously, who rolled his eyes in response.

"Can you two ever be serious?"

"We tried it once. It was weird." Stiles said, laughing to himself. Lydia smiled back at him, before sighing slightly to herself, deciding to give Derek a real answer.

"We put you in the shower. We didn't know what to do, so... we just washed the wolfsbane pollen off you and hoped for the best." She suddenly looked shy, like she was unsure of herself. She reached to tuck her hair behind her ear nervously, gasping when his hand shot out to grab hers. His eyes bore into hers.

"Thank you." He said, seriously. He turned his gaze to Stiles, reaching out with his other hand to cover Stiles' hand. "Both of you. You saved me."

He looked so sincere, that neither Stiles nor Lydia were sure if he meant tonight or something more. He squeezed both their hands, gratefully as they smiled back at him.

Lydia dropped her gaze suddenly, taking a deep breath, knowing she was about to disrupt the moment of comfort they were sharing.

"Derek?" She said softly, still not looking up. "Who's Paige?"

He dropped her hand like she had burned him, pulling his legs up to his chest, shrinking back against the headboard.

"What?" Lydia raised her eyes to look at him, his reaction confirming that the name meant alot to him.

"Who's Paige?" She repeated, ignoring the warning look Stiles was giving her. He could quite happily ignore the fact that Derek had whispered the name Paige into her hair, but Lydia could not go on not knowing. She longed to know Derek, to understand him, and she had this strange feeling that whoever this Paige was, she could explain alot about the man Derek had become. She felt a ridiculous pull of jealousy in her gut at the thought of someone else touching Derek, which was absurd she knew.

"She's nobody."

To her surprise, it was Stiles' turn to lose his temper this time. She didn't think he cared about finding out about whoever Paige was, but apparently Derek's attempt to brush Lydia's question off was enough to push him over the edge. He suddenly jumped up off the bed, reaching down to snatch a random T shirt off the floor. Lydia and Derek watched with silent fascination as he starting angrily trying to turn the shirt the right way in, eventually stopping to stare pointedly at Lydia.

She just stared back at him, not understanding what he wanted her to do, their usual unspoken communication thing letting them down for once.

"Come on, Lydia. Let's just go." He spoke casually, like he was just bored of the whole thing. He turned to regard Derek coolly, who stared back, his eyes wide and desperate, his jawline tight.

"I thought maybe since we saved your life, we might have earnt some honesty from you. But I'm not sure you're ever going to change." Stiles said the words sadly, without malice, like it was just a sudden thought that had just popped into his head.

He held out his hand to Lydia, and she glanced at Derek worriedly before reaching out to take it, letting Stiles pull her up and lead her towards the door.

"Wait!" Derek suddenly blurted out. They stopped, both turning back to look at him. He looked so small and sad, hugging his knees against his chest, naked except for his boxers, backed up against the headboard on the bare mattress.

"She was..." He began, his jaw tightening, his eyes wide and fearful as they darted around the bed, searching for where to begin. "She was a girl I once knew."

There was a pause, where he looked up to Stiles, looking uncharacteristically desperate, searching for approval. Stiles glanced at Lydia, who pulled on his hand slightly, tugging him back towards the bed, both of them feeling the sense of relief that Derek had that they were staying. They situated themselves in front of Derek, looking like kids ready for storytime, rather than two teenagers about to hear the dark, defining story of a broken man's life.

"I once told Scott that he couldn't possibly love Allison."

Lydia shared a look with Stiles, their expressions wondering where this was going.

"I was angry. I told him that it was a meaningless crush and that he was just a child." He laughed mirthlessly to himself. "The truth is, I was trying to protect him." He swallowed audibly, his face darkening. "I saw alot of myself in him. I was 15 when I met Paige and... I guess she was my first love, just like Allison and Scott. I know what that sort of love could make you do." His jaw tightened as he gritted his teeth together, his voice breaking a little when he said her name, fighting against the onslaught of memories that threatened to overwhelm him.

"She looks like her." He blurted. "Allison. She looks just like her."

He picked at his thumbnail, trying his best to look casual, his shaking hands deceiving him.

"I hate that," he added softly, sounding like a sad child. Pieces of the puzzle began to slot into place. Stiles had always wondered about Derek's feelings towards the Argents. He could understand hating Kate, but he always seemed to harbour such resentment for Allison too, resentment he could never understand. When Scott and Allison had first got together, he remember Derek's insistence that it should end, that Scott would definitely end up hurting her. He began to wonder how this story was going to end, began wondering if he would be able to see Derek in the same light. His hand unconsiously wandered down to brush against the scratch marks that marred his chest. Had Paige suffered a similar fate? Torn to pieces by a hormonal, lustful, violent teenaged Derek?

"You remind me of her alot." Derek spoke again, his voice cracking just a little. He nodded his head at Lydia. "She was so smart, just like you. Always correcting my grammar and trying to get me to read more books." He jerked his head towards the over-stuffed bookcase on the other side of the room, crammed with well-worn copies of classic literature. "I suppose that was her legacy."

He smiled to himself, clearly remembering something.

"And she wouldn't take any of my shit." He smiled at Stiles. "She wouldn't hesitate to call me out on my bullshit."

He carried on smiling to himself, lost in his memories.

"She sounds nice." Lydia piped up, worrying that she sounded a bit stupid. She just didn't know what to say. The smile fell from Derek's face and his expression darkened.

"She was."

"What happened to her?" Stiles asked, gently, reaching out to grasp Derek's ankle.

"She... she's gone now. She died. It was all my fault." His voice cracked and he buried his face in his hands. Stiles and Lydia exchanged sad looks, Stiles tightening his grip on Derek's ankle, his thumb uselessly rubbing circles. She nodded at him, in one of their moments of unspoken communication, and they both scrambled up the bed to sit either side of Derek, both resting their heads on his shoulders.

No-one said anything for a few minutes. No-one really knew what to say. Derek's shoulders shook silently for a moment as Stiles and Lydia leaned into him, Lydia kneeling up on her heels and wrapping an arm around his shoulders while Stiles linked his arm under Derek's.

"Thank you for telling us about her." Lydia said finally, worrying that the silence would go on forever if she didn't break it.

"I just... I can't bury another person I love. I won't be the cause of another death."

If Derek noticed the way Stiles and Lydia stiffened at the word 'love', he didn't say anything. They shared yet another look over the top of his head, pretending they didn't notice the way he was rubbing at his teary eyes.

"You wouldn't hurt us. It's ok." Lydia said, trying in vain to comfort Derek, who snorted at her words.

"Too late for that." He said darkly, flicking his head in Stiles' direction. Lydia widened her eyes pointedly at Stiles, willing him to find the words to make things ok.

"It's cool, bro." Those were not the eloquent words Lydia had been looking for, but they'd do for a start.

"To be honest, I overreacted. You barely even got me. And I know you didn't mean to."

"Doesn't matter. I still hurt you." Derek said, mournfully dropping his head back down again, hiding his face between his knees.

"Barely." Stiles tugged Derek's hand away from his face, pulling him up to meet his gaze, his eyes boring into his seriously. "I forgive you. I'm sorry I ran out the way I did. I really am ok. I promise."

Before Derek could protest, Stiles leaned in and pressed a kiss against Derek's lips, cutting off any words before they could come out. Derek was still for a moment, before reacting, his lips pressing back against Stiles', Stiles' hand coming to rest gently upon his cheek.

"Tsk," The sound of Lydia tutting loudly broke them from their reverie. The kiss had been so sweet, so powerful, conveying forgiveness and a new beginning and a million more things that they had forgotten they weren't alone. They broke apart with a soft breathy laugh, glancing at Lydia apologetically, shocked when her fingers batted Stiles' away, grasping Derek's face gently.

"Don't hog him," she chastised, flashing him a sultry look, before pressing her mouth against his. She made eye contact with a dumbstruck Stiles for a moment before letting her eyes close, giving herself over to the kiss, their lips moving innocently against each other. It took a moment to realise that this was their first real kiss. They'd kissed before, but it had always been for show - to show her classmates she wasn't alone, to show Greenberg he was a dick. They had never kissed just because they wanted to. Lydia wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of their current situation. This man had managed to convince the town (including her mother) that they were dating, and had just heavily implied that he loved her, and yet they had yet to share a kiss, a proper real kiss.

Lydia felt a familiar flutter in her stomach, urging her to deepen the kiss, to take control and take things further, but her brain stepped in. She knew that tonight wasn't the right time. She pulled back to look deep into Derek's eyes, shocked at the desperate, hopeful look in them. Lydia wondered if she was seeing the Derek he had described in his story, the young, hopeful Derek who had had his taste of first love, only to have it cruelly ripped away.

She was now convinced that tonight was not the night for things to go further. Unshed tears still shone in the corners of his eyes, and she leaned her forehead against his for a second, not sure where they should go from here.

Thankfully, Stiles chose an opportune time to yawn loudly next to them, prompting Derek to glance at him then back at Lydia, looking like he wanted to say something. His mouth flapped open and close wordlessly for a moment, looking conflicted, before finally taking a deep breath.

"Will you stay?" He said quietly, staring back at his hands, picking nervously at his thumbnail again. Lydia and Stiles shared yet another of their moments of unspoken communication, both inclining their heads at each other.

"Of course," Lydia whispered, at the same time as Stiles breathed out a soft "sure."

Somewhat awkwardly, the three of them shuffled down to lie back down, the way they had been lying earlier, all instinctively rolling onto their sides. Quiet breathing filled the room, accompanied by the sound of Stiles shuffling restlessly, eventually getting comfortable, resting his hand on Derek's hip. Derek tensed at the feel of his hand casually resting there, Stiles' breath ghosting over the back of his neck, making the hairs there stand on end. If Stiles noticed Derek's initial discomfort, he said nothing, snuggling closer against him, but the tension that filled Derek's body did not go unnoticed by Lydia. She reached back without looking, grasping his hand and pulling it close to her, wrapping his arm around her. She positioned his hand flat against her stomach, wriggling back slightly to cuddle even closer to him, enjoying the warm, safe weight of his arm across her waist.

To his surprise, Derek immediately felt his eyelids growing heavy, lulled by the dull thudding of the two heartbeats next to him. He realised that he rarely felt safe when he slept, always waiting for the next crisis, the next attack. Even when he rested, he never truly relaxed, his mind always half-alert. Something always went wrong, and Derek was always just waiting for it to happen - The next piece in the tragic puzzle that was his life.

Derek sleepily realised that he was no longer waiting for the next thing to go wrong. He had always thought that talking about Paige would be the worst thing he could do, that it would bring up memories he had long since tried to forget, but he was surprised at the feeling of calm that washed over him as he started to drift to sleep.

He had talked about her. He had told them what he did. And they had stayed. Maybe things didn't always go wrong, he thought to himself, taking a deep inhale of lust, and ritalin, and honey and hibiscus before drifing off into a peaceful dreamless sleep.

* * *

**If I'm brutally honest, I wrote this and considered just ending it right there and then. Like, I actually think this would be kind of a cute ending! But, alas, I fear there is more to come from this story. I know, I know! You're all disappointed. You're getting sick of me, and you're hoping I'll just wind this whole mess of a story up soon. Fear not! The end is now in our sights. **

**I will handing out free (yes, FREE!) brownie points to anyone who got my VERY clever Lost reference. Did you get it? Did ya?**

**Anyhoo, I hope this didn't disappoint. I know it's all a bit heavy, but there was some shit that needed to be said. Don't worry though - there's gonna be (unexpected) smut in the next chapter. More smut, less feels ;) *cues excited yayz from the internets***

**As always, thank you sooooo much for your reviews. Some of the ones for the last chapter made me genuinely LOL. You guys are super sweet AND funny. (Double threat!). Please let me know what you think of this current turn of events... **

**xxx**


	29. Pack Revelations

A distant crashing sound awoke Derek from a peaceful, dreamless sleep. He let his eyes flicker open groggily, taking a moment to take in his surroundings. At some point in their sleep, they had all shifted and Derek was now on his back, with Stiles curled up into a ball against his side, and Lydia lying with her head resting on Derek's chest, her body draped across him haphazardly. Their new position felt so much more intimate than the relatively safe position they had fallen asleep in, especially as Stiles stretched lazily in his sleep, his foot rubbing against Derek's leg. Lydia murmured softly in her sleep, her hand curling into a ball against his chest, her nails gently dragging a path across against his skin.

Derek was trying not to shiver at the feeling when another crash from somewhere in the distance grabbed his attention. He was immediately completely alert, trying to block out the comforting sound of Stiles and Lydia's steady heartbeats to listen out for any other noises. There was silence for a moment, and he tried to convince himself it had been nothing, that there was no big bad monster on its way to disrupt his happiness but then there was another noise, closer now, and he sighed heavily, glancing at the peaceful sleeping faces next to him.

Painfully slowly, Derek managed to extract himself from the pile of pale limbs and red hair without waking them up, gently shimmying out from under them and landing gracefully next to the bed. He crouched down, trying to focus, but distracted by their mingling scents that still clung to his skin, their soft snores still ringing in his ears when he heard a door slam from somewhere out in his apartment. He'd half thought he'd been overreacting, that the sounds had been nothing, but the sound of heavy footsteps around the apartment was undeniable.

There was a loud crash from just down the hall, and the last flicker of hope that Derek had that it was just Isaac being especially clumsy disappeared when a low, deep growl echoed through the apartment, followed by another, more feminine roar. Derek's heart stopped for a second. There had been rumours of an alpha pack heading through town, and yet he had still let his guard down, alone and defenceless with two fragile teenagers in his bed who he doubted he'd be able to protect. He ran his fingers through his hair, desperately trying to figure out what to do, glancing guiltily towards the bed before taking a deep breath, steeling himself to make a move. Another crash echoed from the other side of the door and the decision was made for him, as he sprung into action, slowly pulling the door open and edging out into the dark hallway.

Another growl echoed from the room down the hall and Derek edged towards the sound, his whole body tensed for the oncoming confrontation. Keeping his body pressed against the wall, he moved stealthily down the hallway, taking a deep breath before rounding the corner to face the occupants of his spare room.

He did not expect the scene that lay before him, his eyes widening at the sight of Erica dropping to her knees in front of a breathless Isaac. A path of destruction followed the two betas to where they were currently situated in the room, his sleek IKEA floorlamp lying smashed on it's side, their shirts strewn haphazardly on the floor. Isaac's head dropped back against the wall, his hands blindly groping to fist in Erica's long blonde locks as she kissed a path down the light trail of hair that ran from his navel to under the waistband of his jeans.

He must of only stood there for a second, maybe two, but it felt like a lifetime, the adrenaline leaving his body as his fists dropped uselessly to his sides. Erica's feminine giggle was drowned out by the sound that Derek now recognised as Isaac's deep, rumbling growl, cut off as Isaac inhaled slightly, his eyes flying open to find Derek glaring at him. He spotted Derek a couple of seconds before Erica did and froze on the spot, his eyes wide with shock when they met Derek's. The sound of Erica's panting now seemed too loud in the room, the metallic clinking of her fumbling with Isaac's belt filling the room while the two men held their breaths. It took her a second to notice that Isaac's hands had dropped limply from her hair, his whole body suddenly still and filled with tension. Her head whipped round, meeting the angry gaze of her alpha, frozen for a second before she jumped to her feet to stand next to Isaac. Derek tried his best to avoid glancing down at her chest, not made any easier when she stood with her hands on her hips, staring him down defiantly, not making any attempt to cover up the crimson and black satin that stood out against her tanned skin.

The silence dragged on as they all just stood staring at each other, Derek's eyes flashing dangerously.

"Oh. Hi." Erica finally blurted out, trying her best to sound casual, her rapid, skittering heartbeat betraying the fear she was feeling.

"We thought you weren't home." She said simply, glancing at Isaac for some backup.

"Um... Stiles texted me. He said that you were fine." Isaac stuttered out, stumbling over his words.

Derek said nothing, just tightened his jaw, raising an eyebrow enquiringly at them both.

Erica piped up to clarify.

"We assumed you were with Deaton. When we're hurt, we always seem to end up with Deaton and since Stiles said you were fine, we thought the place would be empty..." She trailed off, realising she was rambling.

Derek regarded them coolly for a second before taking a tiny step towards them, enjoying the way they flinched slightly away from him.

"And what? You decided you'd come here and... what? _Housesit_?" Derek said sharply, his eyes finally glancing pointedly at Erica and Isaac's bare chests.

"We just wanted to do it somewhere other than the woods," Isaac sighed the words out before suddenly realised that he'd said them outloud, clapping his hand over his mouth while Derek resisted the urge to smirk at him.

Derek did what he thought he was supposed to do. He pretended to be shocked.

"What? How long has this been going on for?" He demanded, feeling ridiculous. He just suddenly felt very responsible for them, realising that the common theme within his pack was a lack of a father figure. Maybe that meant they could get away with murder, but just because there wasn't an actual father waiting somewhere to reprimand them for their behaviour, didn't mean Derek was going to allow them to do whatever they wanted. He tried to remember the way his father was when he was a teenager and tried his best to channel his firm, stern look as he stared at them.

Erica glanced at Isaac and cocked her head like she was counting, as Derek realised he wasn't as in tune with his pack as he thought. Whatever this was, it had been going on a while.

"Erm... like... a while?" Erica ventured, unhelpfully. Isaac nodded, equally unhelpfully.

"And Boyd? What about Boyd?"

"Um... what about Boyd?" Erica shared a confused look with Isaac, while Derek reeled from finding out he knew even less than he thought about his pack.

"He's cool. I think he knows, but we don't really talk about it or anything. He's dating Cora anyway." Isaac supplied

"Who's Cora?!" Derek asked, wanting to throw his hands in the air in frustration. How could there be so much going on right under his nose that he had no idea about?

"Some girl from his economics class." He noticed the irritated look on Derek's face, quickly adding "It's nothing serious. They're just hanging out." He spoke the words like they would help the situation somehow, trailing off when he saw the warning look Erica was giving him.

Derek rubbed at his temples, realising why his father would get so angry back when he was a teenager. Was it really this frustrating? He decided to change tack.

"This..." he gestured between them, still deliberately ignoring Erica's chest that she still made no effort to cover up. "This isn't right. You can't do this."

Erica crossed her arms angrily, pushing her breasts up and together, causing Derek's gaze to suddenly shoot to the floor.

"And why not?" She challenged.

"You're too young!" He cast an accusing eye to Isaac, who shrank back guiltily. "She's barely 16, Isaac. What were you thinking?"

"Erm, excuse me?!" Erica said, stepping in front of Isaac to stare hard at Derek. "I am not some sweet little lamb who needs protecting from the big bad wolf. He's like, a year older than me. That's nothing."

"You're 16, Erica! You might think you're all grown up but you're not! You're just a kid!" He was shouting now, looking away from them and lowering his tone, while he rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted by the situation. "God, I expect this sort of behaviour from you, Erica, but Isaac? I'm disappointed."

He rubbed his face wearily, surprised to see tears shining in Erica's eyes when he looked back up at them. She sniffed quietly, tossing her curls out of her face, taking a deep breath to act like she was fine.

"Oh," she breathed sadly. " So that's what you think of me." She bit her lip, looking up to the ceiling for a second, pretending there weren't tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "Didn't think the little epileptic girl would be such a slut?" She whispered, her voice cracking, giving up any pretence of not being upset.

Derek took an instinctual step towards her, stopping when Isaac held up his hand boldly, a soft low growl escaping his throat. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, surprised when she let him, turning herself away from Derek and into Isaac's warm embrace. She let a few tears escape silently before wiping her face and taking a few deep breaths.

Watching his betas embrace, Derek suddenly took a stumbling step back when he realised what a hypocrite he was being, giving the same lecture he had given to Scott, the same lecture his father had given to him about Paige. Both those instances had been wrong. Who was he to say they weren't ready? Isaac and Erica seemed to have forgotten he was there momentarily and he watched them share one of those moments where it felt like the rest of the world had melted away, leaving only the two of them alone. She wrapped herself up, pressing her hands against his chest, while he held her against him, stroking her hair and lowering his mouth to her ear, pressing a soft kiss in her hair before whispering something quietly in her ear.

"...didn't mean it like that... He's just worried..." Was all Derek caught, as he tried his very best not to listen in, feeling like he was intruding on a very personal moment.

He glanced around at the room, looking back at his lamp that lay broken on the floor, in what he assumed had been a passionate entrance to the room.

"You owe me a lamp." He said, trying to break the tense silence that had filled the room. Erica and Isaac both turned to stare at him, Erica pulling away from the warm safety of Isaac's arms, unsure if he was trying to be funny, until he flashed them a half smirk.

"Jeez, Isaac. Can we scrape together 30 bucks for a new lamp?" Erica quipped, brushing casually under her eyes like nothing had happened.

"I think we could manage that. We should probably buy you some new throw pillows aswell." He flicked Erica a knowing look.

"Oh. Ohhh! Yeah... We'll get you some new pillows. You should probably just go ahead and throw those ones out." Erica and Isaac blushed, and Derek realised he did not want to know what they did with the throw pillows. His mouth opened to make some witty comeback before he froze, suddenly realising he was hearing the pitter patter of little bare feet padding down the hall towards him.

He closed his eyes, cursing the universe for the timing of this, when he heard a soft, sleepy "Derek?" followed by a sweet little yawn from Lydia. He kept his eyes closed. If he kept his eyes closed he could pretend this wasn't happening.

"Is he sleepwalking?" He heard Stiles whisper.

"Derek, sweetie. Come back to bed," Lydia managed to say, before ending on another yawn.

He opened his eyes, just as Stiles and Lydia made their way up to him, rounding the corner and seeing Erica and Isaac. Stiles and Isaac both made the same instinctive move - they pushed Erica and Lydia slightly behind them, gallantly attempting to shield their inadequately dressed respective partners from view of the other. Derek would have been proud, if he could feel anything other than mortified when he glanced from Stiles' dumbstruck expression to Isaac's one of pure vindication. Derek wasn't sure he had ever seen two people look as smug as Erica and Isaac looked right now, Erica's earlier tears forgotten as she now smiled widely at all three of them over Isaac's shoulder. Lydia attempted to pull Derek's shirt down to cover more of her, but the damage was done.

Isaac whistled slightly, shaking his head at Derek, who said nothing, just stood there blushing.

Eventually it was Erica who spoke, going on tip toes to rest her chin on Isaac's shoulder, wrapping her fingers around his arms like she was loving every second of this.

"Well, well... " She quirked an eyebrow at all three of them, before resting her gaze squarely on Derek. "Pot. Kettle. Black."

* * *

**What? What's this? No Stiles and Lydia? Am I mad? Perhaps, but that's irrelevant. Tbh, I had a lot of positive feedback towards Isaac and particularly towards all the little mentions of his relationship with Erica so I decided to just go ahead and make it official. You guys seemed to like Isaac, especially showing a little more confidence, so this is a little sort of side-chapter for everyone who wants to kiss Isaac's happy trail and then get a hug off him (That's the dream!). Hope you're not all mad at me for no Stiles and Lydia. The last chapter was just kinda heavy, so I wanted something a bit lighter this time. **

**You might have noticed that I've changed the ages of a few of them to fit in with my story. Only a little bit, but just to clarify: Erica has still "just turned 16", and Derek is still 24 (ish) but Lydia and Isaac are 17 now and Stiles has juuust turned 18. I dunno if it's cause I'm 22 now and therefore becoming an old, sensitive soul, but the thought of them being 16 just seems a bit too young and makes me feel a bit pervy. That extra year makes all the difference! If you feel like you need some kind of narratively coherent reason for all this, imagine that Isaac and Lydia had birthdays early on in the school year, and Stiles had to repeat a year the year his mom died because he took loads of time off to visit her in the hospital and then had to be sent home with panic attacks for the rest of the year. There, wrapped up in a neat little bow. :)**

**Also, Cora is not Derek's sister in this. As I've mentioned, I'm not acknowledging the events of season 3, so all of Derek's family is still dead (sidenote, are we EVER going to find out how Cora escaped the fire and where she's been this whole time? Holy loose end Batman!) and he never had a sister called Cora. I just used her cause it was easy and I decided that, as much as I like the idea of yet ANOTHER threesome in this fic, I can't imagine Isaac and Boyd sharing anything other than uncomfortable eye contact during a threeway.**

**As always, thank you for your reviews and follows and everything! Your response to the last chapter warmed my little ice queen heart. Oh you guys! Lotta love for you all! xxx**


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